#infamous iron man huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ktficworld · 7 months

Text

Lies and Lavish

Chapter 1: introduction

Pairing: soft dark! Andy Barber x reader, soft dark! Steve Rogers x reader, soft dark! Clark Kent x reader, soft dark! Bucky x reader, soft dark! Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You finally pull your head out of your studies and go to your long time friend's wedding to relax. And it's going to be alright, even if the infamous five brothers tend to linger around you a little too long, even when you share a past with one of them, even if their darkness is slowly approaching you. It's going to be okay, right?

Warnings: angst, mutual pining, manhandling, violence (by reader)

A/n: phew, it's finally here. Let me know what you think and please reblog it. It give ke motivation.

The wind whistled in the air mingling with the horns and roars of the cars, more expensive than your soul.

You sighed at the gigantic iron gate before you as the straps of your backpack dug into your shoulder. You were really second guessing your visit but the thought of your friend made you shake your head. After all, it was your childhood best friend wedding, even if it was to Ransom Drysdale. How did she managed to win that throttle? You would never know. But then again, not everybody's life revolved around school and sleep.

You glanced at the two additional bags you brought. Your backpack had essentials and your books. Even though, you came to relax, you'd still squeeze in some study. Business was no easy major and your finals were four months away.

You gripped your trolley bags and meekly shuffled towards the gate and entered the Drysdale estate through a smaller door-like gate. You sighed and looked around for any worker or someone who could help you with this maze.

Honk.

You jumped, clutching your racing heart as the loud noise pulled you out of your reverie. You began turning your head to glare at the motherfucker who almost gave you a heart attack, when an oh-so familiar voice called out your name.

"Luna! Come here."

You caught a glimpse of a Rolls Royce with a familiar sticker before you turned to beam at your friend, Alaïa. She waved at you with a megawatt smile and you thanked your lucky stars for working today as you dragged the bags and yourself towards her.

"Hi Alaïa, oh god! I can't believe you are getting married. Congratulations!" You said while intertwining your hands with hers, bouncing giddily.

"Thanks sis and gimme this," She pulled the bag off from your shoulders and deposited it on the nearby trolley bag. She glanced around and beckoned someone to where you were standing. "Leo, can you put these bags in the guest room I set up. Thank you." She politely ordered and off went your bags.

"Wow, Alaïa. You're living like a queen, huh?" You said, distracted by the large man taking away your luggage.

"Well, perks of marrying a rich man."

At that your smile faltered. You gradually dragged your gaze back to her. "Listen, Alaïa, you know I don't beat around the bush so I'm just gonna ask you. Are you okay with Ransom bringing more wives in the future?"

That was the new normal now. Apparently, 50 percent divorce rate was too alarming for the governments around the world. Add the loneliness statistics and now getting a divorce was nearly impossible. However, those who had the money to keep multiple partners, were allowed. Yes, polygamy was now legal. But the financially dependent partner had no say in this arrangement and that was why you feared for Alaïa.

Alaïa grimaced. "I know you're blunt. But you don't have to put it like that and don't worry. Ransom has promised to stay with me and only me."

They meant nothing. You were promised too. "But Alaïa, people change. What if he just said that to trap you? What will you do when he brings home some bimbo twenty years younger than him?"

People do change sometimes, even overnight. Or maybe they just hide their true face so perfectly that you couldn't see past those roses and sweet nothings.

Alaïa's lips tugged upwards into a half, bitter smile. "You think I'm a gold digger, don't ya?"

You gasped at the accusation. "God, no. And even if you were a gold digger, there's nothing wrong with it in this economy. The golden days are long gone. I'm just concerned about you, Alaïa."

"Hmmm, I know you only want the best for me. And I was just teasing you. I have signed the open marriage arrangement."

You heaved a sigh of relief but couldn't help thinking that somebody had definitely shamed her with that tag. "You scared me. It's great Ransom offered you that. Maybe, he is actually really committed to you." There were men and women who would allow the courtesy of an open marriage to their financially dependent partner, in case they marry again. So, if Ransom was really risking his fragile male ego, then he really meant it in your opinion.

"Yeah, maybe we can find you a committed one or two here. Look, their eyes are already wandering over you." She said with way too much enthusiasm and pointed behind you where few men were eyeing you with interest.

You whipped your head back to your friend, now accompanied with a sharp glare. "Absolutely not! I don't plan on marrying. Ever. And especially not to those dogs lolling their tongue."

Alaïa laughed at your little outburst and hooked her arm with yours. "I'm joking. Now, come on. Let's get you to Harlan." And began leading you inside the mansion.

But you planted your feet on the ground, causing her to stagger back to you. "Why would I meet Harlan?" You asked, bewildered.

She looked at you sheepishly. "I may have bragged about your writing and business skills way too much. Because as soon as I said you were coming today, he instructed me to bring you straight to his office."

What did your friend tell him that Harlan Thrombey wanted to meet you? And not just meet you but meet you straight away? It annoyed you nonetheless. "Alaïa, but-"

"No if and buts. You are going to the office right now." She declared and dragged your whining body with her.

"Harlan, look who's here." Alaïa announced as she pushed open the large doors.

You stood beside her and smiled at Harlan when his eyes lit up. "Oh, Luna. Welcome dear. I have heard a lot about you." He said with a good-natured smile.

"I don't know what she has told you but I'm definitely not what you think." You said, stepping towards him.

Harlan huffed out a chuckle. "I call it nonsense. I have seen you work, I have seen your articles. You are an asset to have-"

"How are you doing, Harlan?" A dark baritone voice called from behind as the doors flung open, sending shivers down your spine.

You gazed back and your breath hitched in your throat. In walked The Five Brothers, the richest and most dangerous people in the world. If one percent of the world's population ruled the 99 percent, then they ruled the hundred percent of it. They had unimaginable power, both legally and illegally.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company." The eldest, Andy Barber said. You didn't catch the intrigue in his voice.

Because among them was him. He was the last one to come in, your eyes locked for a second and an emotion you couldn't decipher passed through his eyes before he completely disregarded you and returned to his nonchalant attitude.

And why would he care? You meant nothing to him. Or he wouldn't have left the way he did. It was just a second of eye contact but for you it felt like eternity as the bittersweet memories flashed before your eyes. They were tainted by the black cloud of reality but for you, they meant everything. Because even if you were a mere lay for him. You liked that bastard. Loved even, if you allowed yourself that pain.

"Luna, I didn't know he'd come. I'm sorry." Alaïa said but you were already too out of your mind to care about her words.

You were drowning. Drowning in pain, in the memories, in the abandonment after swearing to never love, seeing your parents example. Only to open your heart to that asshole and have it smashed into a billion pieces.

Your lungs were bursting and tears were prickling your eyes. You didn't want to cry over that fucker, never, not again. But your breath was already coming out in short puffs and it was getting difficult to remain discreet. You were going to cry, you couldn't help it.

"Harlan, my head is hurting like crazy. I think coming here in this scorching heat caused it. Can we talk at night?" You blurted out as you released a shuddery breath, unshed tears bluring your vision.

Harlan's eyes softened and he gave you a compassionate smile. "Of course, dear. Take care of yourself."

You nodded with a wry smile and turned to leave. Attempting to bypass the large men that had engulfed the entire study.

There was no furniture at the door, no plants but you still gasped as your feet hit something, disbalancing you as you fell. However, before you could fall, a pair of strong arms caught you. You knew who caught you, you knew that scent too well. You looked up to glare at him. He made you fall.

"Woah, babe. I know women fall head over heels for me but I didn't mean it literally." He chuckled and you screwed your eyes shut to stop yourself from slapping the fuck out of him.

"Maybe you are way too sick. Should I escort you to your room?" He said and you snapped your gazes up at him.

You wanted to squirm out of his hold. Maybe stomp on his feet. You wanted to run away but the bruising grip around your waist didn't allow you the courtesy. His signet ring digging into your skin, as if pleading to agree, to hear whatever he wanted to say or do.

"Please." You whispered, you didn't know what you were asking. To tell you the truth and finally give you closure or to not break your heart again.

You squealed as he collected you in his arms. Promptly trapping you.

"Yeah, Bruce just go and drop her. Don't mess around here, okay." Andy said with a sigh.

"Of course, brother. Why would I do that now?" Bruce said with feigned innocence, causing all of his brothers to scoff.

He turned to Alaïa and stared at her expectantly. "Oh, third floor, last room on the left side." She hastily informed.

He nodded with his charming smile and dashed out the door. But you knew he wasn't taking you to your room.

"Bruce put me down." You said with calm firmness. Finally getting a hold of your emotions.

"No." He said with an attitude as he marched up the stairs, the forcing rocking you hard in his arms as you clutched his shoulders.

"Bruce, I said let me go and don't give me that attitude."

No answer.

"BRUCE LET ME DOWN." You were suddenly pushed into a dark corridor. His entire weight pinned you down to keep you from squirming away.

His head whipped to the right side, inky hair cascading over his forehead as your slap echoed in the hollow corridor. He did not move his head, did not bat an eye, hell! He looked like he wasn't even breathing.

You snapped his face to the left as you hit him again and again. You knew it was wrong. You knew he wasn't feeling more than a pat on his cheeks as you were no match for his strength but you still did it. Once, twice, thrice. You did it till tears rolling down your cheeks blurred your vision, till your hands hurt and shook, till they were covered by larger ones.

You wanted to cry on his shoulder, like how you did when you didn't get the expected result but you refrained from it. And leaned against the wall instead.

"Want to hit me again? Go ahead." Bruce whispered, his thumbs soothing your aching palms. There was emotion in his voice now, the care that he lacked before.

"You left," You said through sobs. "You left after we lost our virginity together!"

"I did. But I never wanted to leave you. I had to." He replied, his voice cracking in the end.

"That is not a good fucking excuse, Bruce Wayne." You bit back and tried to wriggle out of his hold but you were further pressed into the fall when he caught onto your escape plan.

"I'm not making any excuses Luna. I had no choice, we had no choice! They were so close to uncovering our identity. We would have been done for."

"Who they? What they? Bruce do you seriously give this explanation to every single woman you fuck and abandon? When you take their virginity or sack a married woman? You are a pathetic excuse of a man, Bruce." You were just his practice. Someone he lost his virginity to, nothing more, nothing less. You were done. You didn't want any closure, any explanation if this was what you were getting. You wanted him out of your sight and life. Even if it meant leaving your best friend's wedding.

"I swear on my dead mother's grave I didn't want to leave, Luna!" Bruce roared and you finally halted, coming down from your hysteria. You looked at him as you both heaved.

He swore on his mother. The mother who he loved dearly. Who was kicked out on the streets with his other four brothers by their father and mistress, throwing them out of the life of luxury to beg on the streets. The one who died in front of him in a car accident when he was just eight.

Bruce told you all this when he was too drunk or too sleepy to care. So you weren't relying on gossip here.

Now you listened to him as he took a deep breath. "Do you think I like it? Moving from one place to another on a day's notice? Working minimum wage jobs even though we were far more capable? Changing identities like clothes? Do you think we liked living in fear? I had a red dot on my forehead, Luna. Heck! Maybe I still do and when I say I didn't have the time to even say goodbye, I mean it. And no, I didn't sleep with married women, didn't take anyone's virginity. All hook ups were consensual and I don't give anyone any excuse or explanation."

"Is this really the truth?" You asked, exhausted and relaxed at the same time.

"It is, Luna. I never wanted to leave you. I-missed you." He whispered and gingerly touched his forehead with yours and when you didn't jerk away, he released a shuddery breath.

"I don't forgive you." You whispered back, touching his stubbled jaw. God, his warmth, he still used that aftershave. It brought back so many memories.

"You don't have to."

"Are you asking for it?"

"Yes."

To your dismay, a hope bloomed in your heart that maybe, you would be able to forgive him with time and rekindle the unsaid. However, you quickly crushed that desire. You were worlds apart now. You were still grinding your ass to study and get a good job while he was one of the richest men in the world. You didn't belong here. He did.

You slid your head from his forehead to his chest as he buried his head into your hair. You let a few more tears fall off your eyes as a pang of headache hit you. It was great while it lasted.

"Bruce-oh! You know her?" A surprised voice startled you as Bruce tensed underneath your hold.

He sucked in a deep breath and whirled around so quickly it gave you whiplash, his tall stature shielding you completely. "And now why would I tell you, shorty? Were you stalking me?" He said with a sardonic smirk as you gaped at him.

This was not the sensible, careful and vulnerable Bruce. This was the rude, condescending and arrogant rich asshole everybody knew him as. Granted he always had a bad temper with an even worse mouth but this was not him. Maybe he changed overtime.

Bucky didn't even bat an eye over his height's judgement and said. "No, I wasn't stalking you. You were taking too long so Steve told me to check if you were behaving. Now who is she?" Bucky's mouth also turned upwards, his almost green eyes twinkling with mischief as his chocolate hair fell over his forehead. Even if Bucky was on the shorter side, it did nothing to deter his beauty.

Your thoughts were interpreted by the loud snort of Bruce. "Come on, Buck. You are becoming such a pet of our Stevie. I don't know what treats he gives you but they sure look worth it. And as for her?" Bruce turned to you, head cocked with a raised eyebrow.

You sidestepped Bruce and came face to face with Bucky. You told him your name. "People call me Luna, I'm his friend from college."

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. "Honey, he changed colleges like clothes. You'd have to be more specific."

"Very first college, Buck. You know." Bruce said nonchalantly and your head snapped to glare at him. You were half upset when you thought his brothers didn't know about you but as Bucky's flicked over you and your cheeks heated up. You wanted them to forget about you.

You glanced at Bucky with an awkward smile as realisation dawned on him and his mouth curved in a o shape. He stuck out his hand for you with a warm smile. "Don't worry, doll face. Only I and Bruce know about you and his… friendship." You shook it.

"Bruce, I didn't know she was such a beauty. You should have told us. We would have taken her with us." You and Bucky laughed. However, Bruce only narrowed his eyes and his jaw ticked.

"I should escort her to her room." Bucky said.

"But that's my duty."

"No, Harlan wants to discuss AI so he needs you. Plus, I have a message to deliver to, doll face."

Bruce huffed and nodded reluctantly. All three of you went to the stairs before diverging. However, you still felt Bruce's eyes as you glanced over your shoulder and found him looking longingly at you. You gave him a smile before he disappeared down the stairs.

"So what is the message you have to deliver, Mr. Barnes?" You ask in a whisper.

Bucky suddenly hooked his arm in your and pulled you towards him, making your breath hitch at the closeness as his heady scent made you dizzy.

"It's Bucky Alaïa wants you to meet her in the garden at 5. She wants you to meet Ransom." He whispered back in your ear and you gulped as it sounded like a dark lullaby to your brain.

"O-okay." You stammeredq out as your room finally arrived.

"Bye, bye, doll face." Bucky rasped close to your face and you were almost disappointed that you arrived so quickly.

Now that Bucky had left, his words registered in your brain. Why the fuck did Alaïa want you to meet Ransom? Was she planning on making you a mistress? You should really stop reading those reddit stories.

You dressed into a black, long dress after taking a nice shower and scrubbing away all the dirt and sweat. After shower feeling was the best feeling.

You gilded down the stairs, stepping into the bustling living room. You promptly avoided all of the people and made a beeline for the door leading to the garden. But you stumbled forward, almost falling to the ground as someone had just stepped on your dress. Perfect!

You turned around and your scathing words died an untimely death on your tongue as your eyes landed on the burly man. A phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as his brows were furrowed in concentration and frustration, his pink lips jutting out as his blonde hair made his blue eyes shine even brighter.

Steve Rogers. Even if he looked a tid bit more approachable than his twin, he still wasn't someone to mess with. And if you cussed at him, well then you could say goodbye to your career.

You sighed and tentatively stepped closer to him. Gingerly, you touched his bicep.

"Hey, stay away from him!" A coarse, deep voice thundered, making you shriek away from Steve as it left you shaking with fear.

This caught Steve's attention as he looked at you and then at his right. "Clark, where are your manners? Yelling at a lady? And for no reason?"

Clark hissed but you weren't able to look at him. "Shit, brother. I wasn't yelling at her. The man behind you, he has a knife."

You furrowed your brows and turned behind to a worker holding a knife with a deer caught in headlights look.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him as he quickly stuttered out. "This is to open a package." And tossed the knife to a nearby worker who disappeared to the storage room.

Steve sighed heavily. "Clark, I can defend myself, you know that right? Why do you overreact so much? And did you not see her?" And pointed at you.

Clark replied after a beat of silence. "I genuinely didn't. I'm sorry…" He started walking towards you but you only recoiled into Steve with each step he took.

You didn't want his apology, at least not right now. You were far too shaken to think coherently.

Steve sighed and coiled an arm around your clinging form and caressed your side. "Clark, not right now. She's far too shaken up to not cry or scream at you. Try again, later."

"But, brother-"

"Leave." He said through gritted teeth.

Clark's footsteps faded away as you involuntarily hid in his chest, his earthy scent grounding you as he shushed you. "Hey, doll. It's okay, it's alright. He won't hurt you, no one would. It was just a misunderstanding, stop shaking babydoll." He cooed.

His soft deep voice relaxed you but as soon as the fear was gone, embarrassment burnt your cheeks as you stepped away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… " You rasped. Did you just rub yourself on The Steve Rogers like a needy kitten?

"Don't say that, doll. My brother caused it so I must fix it."

"Thank you and-" You yelped as you descended down the floor. His foot was still on your dress. Great!

You braced yourself for the impact but bounced in two strong arms as your hands flew to his forearms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was standing on your dress." He said when you snapped your eyes open.

You were swimming in his blue gaze of concern and sincerity. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to say."

"What's your name, doll? Hmmm?" He asked after brought you back to your feet. Your eyes fluttered as his knuckles ran softly over your cheek.

You told him your name.

"Doll is much better, suits you well. Where were you going, anyway?" He quietly asked.

"I-um, I was going to meet Ransom."

"Oh, I was going to meet him as well. Let's go together."

"No, thank you." You politely declined.

"Come with me." He said and dragged you towards the garden.

You talked with Ransom till seven, he wasn't at all like the media projected him. Maybe he changed for Alaïa as he was really committed and determined to do things right. They had your blessings to put your feelings into words.

After Steve dragged you to the garden. He was courteous enough to let you talk to your friend and Ransom privately before he joined.

Then you went to finally meet Harlan and had the overdue talk. He wanted to discuss the latest trends in the writing industry and how to incorporate it in his company's branding. So, that it could appeal to younger audience.

It was a long and draining conversation and you deeply sighed, leaning against the wooden door of Harlan's office. You were finally going to the garden, which you wanted to revisit since you stepped foot in it.

"Miss?"

You gasped at the voice and started for the stairs but Clark's body blocked your path, pushing you against the door.

"I didn't want to scare you." He said, genuinely remorseful.

"You are doing that right now." You snapped and he put up his hands in surrender.

"It's not intentional, I swear."

It might not be. The brothers were tall, except Bucky but Clark was a beast. His biceps were larger than your hand and he practically dwarfed you with his sheer shadow. His eyes were also blue but they had a brown sprinkled in them. He had a little beard with a moustache that made him look even more intimidating and sexy. You had never seen a man who looked this sexy in a moustache.

"Well then be more mindful." You bit back.

He nodded and snaked his hand behind him and pulled out a rose. And not just any rose but a black rose. Where he found it you had no idea but it mesmerized you nonetheless. It was something you had only seen on television and seeing it in real life left you agape.

He offered the rose to you. "I'm sorry, princess." He whispered, the nickname heating up your cheeks.

You gingerly took the rose and let a giddy smile tug on your lips. "Okay, I forgive you. Just remember you are way bigger and stronger than most people. Use your strength wisely." He nodded with a bunny smile and you smiled back before heading to the garden.

You loudly and walked into the garden in peace. Walking in the open at night was another level of tranquillity that you didn't get very often, thanks to your dorm in the concrete jungle.

You twirled the rose in your hand, halting at nearby flowers. You bit your lips wanting to pluck some and put them in a vase. Even though they wouldn't last forever, the contrast would still look appealing.

But you didn't have the permission of any of the Drysdale.

"Couldn't sleep?" A dark baritone voice said from behind.

You flinched and turned around to be greeted by Andy Barber, wearing a simple white tee and sweats. A silver chain peeking through the collar as a smirk danced across his bearded cheeks.

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Barber."

"The feeling is mutual, miss. How's your headache now?" He raised a brow.

You told him your name and nickname. "And it's much better now, thanks for asking."

"Hmmm, Luna, so fitting for the person and the setting," He erased the distance between you two in two long strides and glanced at you. "I couldn't blame you. The night is beautiful."

"But the garden is even more beautiful." You said as he glanced at you.

"Indeed."

"I don't get to dwell in the greenery much." You resumed your walking.

"How so?" He followed.

"It's just study, sleep and sometimes relax for me."

"What are you studying?"

"Business, last year."

"Internship."

"Freelance." You said with a shake of your head. Andy somehow liked your presence and so did you. He was like the ocean.

"And won't you ask me about my work?" He teased as you were back behind the bushes of colourful roses.

"I know everything about that, Mr. Barber."

"It's Andy, darling," He said and only then did you notice the distance, or lack thereof between you and him. "And so confident about it, darling?"

You swallowed through your smile. "Well, everybody knows about how your work is going. So I'm pretty confident."

He chuckled. "I like it. Tell me more."

You resisted the urge to narrow your eyes as he seemed way too interested in a mere student and you have also grown tired.

"A black rose?" He voiced suddenly, lifting your hand to examine the item.

"Yes, isn't it unique?"

"That it is. Who gave you this?" He demanded softly.

You hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Kent."

"Who?" Andy asked as if you had told him the answer to the Bermuda Triangle mystery.

"Mr. Kent " You squealed as his thumb brushed the underside of your hand.

"Why?"

"Because he accidentally scared me by screaming."

He huffed out a chuckle. "Typical of Clark," He walked closer to you, ceasing the distance between you two completely. You averted your eyes as the tension grew. "It'll look better with some companions."

His hand went above your head and you gasped as he presented you red, yellow, white and light pink roses.

"Andy, you don't have the permission for that." You breathed and shook your head.

"Oh honey, I have all the permission you need." He said and handed you the roses. "Take them, they'll look good together."

You nodded. "Ah, actually I'm feeling sleepy and I'm kinda an insomniac, so it's an opportunity I can't miss. We'll resume our conversation tomorrow." You lied.

He pondered over your words, making you nervous before he smiled and nodded. "Of course, sleep is important. Especially to a beauty like you."

You offered a parting smile and walked away. You hugged yourself as a chill ran down your spine. It was not because of the cold night but the gaze that bore into you and the dark aura that clung to you, you couldn't shake it off even when you tried.

You felt something would change drastically, what and how. You didn't know.

Taglist: @goldenharrysworld , @magnificentsaladllama , @iloveavengers , @charmed-asylum , @moonstruckbirdie

235 notes · View notes

therosebunpost · 8 months

Text

A very Berry reunion!

A S.B.B verse Drabble!

You meet Steve again, but this time you’re hanging off the arm of a certain infamous metalhead.

CW: None for this chapter, but please be aware that this is a 18+ story!

———

Steve doesn’t see you again until weeks later, after Starcourt goes up in flames. After him and Robin become best friends for life and Steve starts having issues with his hearing and sight. What was an occasional occurrence was happening more frequently, and Steve started to wear glasses for the first time ever. He hated them, but he hated not being able to see even more.

The job at Troy’s Thrift came about as more of a need than any actual interest. After Starcourt, Robin and him were left jobless and traumatized. Trying to appeal to Keith’s better nature hadn’t worked, even when Robin tried to use Steve’s looks to their advantage.

So there Steve was, wearing a bright yellow polo and brown slacks, ringing up Hawkin’s discarded and abandoned items. No plans for the future, saddled with migraines and rapidly declining senses. He kind of felt accepted amongst the ratty old stuffed animals and dilapidated furniture.

He hears you before he sees you. You’re wearing a mostly pink and red ensemble, with…a domino and poker chip belt? However what takes him aback is the man standing beside you. All ripped denim and chains, Eddie Munson leaned over to press a sweet kiss on the crown of your head. Your hands are linked, and you’re currently smiling over something he's said.

Well, that’s just great.

“Harrington? Well fuck, as I live and breathe.”

“Did you guys find everything you were looking for?” Steve asks, cutting through any questions the older boy had. He sits up a little in his chair, reaching across the counter to pick items up. He’s already had a few people from school sneer at him, and he wasn’t keen on hearing the same from Eddie The Freak Munson.

“Yeah, we did. Got quite a haul going this time, huh, Bun-Bun?”

Steve was looking at the ticket on the Berry tea pot, but he could see the way you nodded enthusiastically from out of the corner of his eye. He picks up the next thing, and does a double take. An…owl radio? He vaguely recalls seeing something similar in a movie, but it’s lost on him what it was.

“Great, cash or card?” He asks, leaning back in his chair and looking at you both. He realizes that the poker chips have pink designs around the rim. Cute. He looks up at you, but you quickly look at Eddie who pulls out a wad of cash with a tiny grin. “Cash, Sunshine.”

The nickname makes him double take, blinking behind the counter. “…Okay, here’s your change. Do you want a bag or a box?” He juts his thumb over at the bin of boxes, which Eddie gleefully wanders over to, leaving him alone with you once more.

You offer another smile, fishing out your notepad and scribbling in it. It’s a strawberry theme on the cover this time, instead of flowers. Your rings were also pink, and shiny with fake metal. He wonders if you raided the local gumball machine for more accessories.

‘Thank you, Steve. How are you? I haven’t seen you since Starcourt.’

“…Fine, yeah I’m fine. Robin and I managed, if you can call working here managing.” He chuckles, looking around at the tiny store. For once he’s really glad that you have a notepad with you, even if the words occasionally make his head swim. It was a little easier to read than hear sometimes.

‘I really like this place. I imagine you find a lot of cool things in here, it must be hard not to take them home.’

Steve suppressed a snort at that. What would he do with a bunch of old junk? Still, he nods. “Yeah. It looks like you did find some cool stuff. What are the flowers for?” He nods towards the heavy, iron flowers in a bag.

‘I’m going to use them as new knobs for my drawers! Eddie and I are going to paint them together outside today since it’s still warm out!’ You quickly flip to another page, where a doodle of a dresser could be seen. It was covered with flowers and funky colors made using highlighters. It was too bright for his taste, but it fit you just fine.

Steve chuckled, amused. “It’s pretty.”

“Babe, this one work?”

The two of you look over at Eddie who came shuffling over with a box with Grapefruit slices painted on the side. “I was thinking we could use the box too!” He starts gathering your things, and there it was. That awkwardness that came with watching customers pack up in silence.

Steve looked over at his calculator, fussing with the buttons. It’s only when Eddie clears his voice that he looks over and sees you giving Eddie a look.

“It uh…it is nice to see you, man. That…that Starcourt shit was terrifying. Glad you made it out in one piece.” Eddie smiles slightly, and Steve is disarmed. He hesitates before nodding slowly. “…You too, Munson. You uh…worked at the record store, right?” He offers and it’s Eddie’s turn to be taken aback. “Yeah! Yeah, was a great gig. M’workin’ down at the mechanics now though.” He shrugs, tapping the counter.

Steve noticed some plastic rings mixed with the genuine metal. Red, plastic jewels twinkled up at him. Did you insist to match, or did Eddie? He couldn’t help the slight smile playing on his lips at either idea.

Taglist: (DM to join) @ali-r3n

———

—-

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #fluffybunnycorner #stranger things hc #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #steddie x reader #Eddie makes an entrance!#steve harrington x disabled!reader #eddie x disabled!reader #disabled!reader #the 🌻x🐰x🦇 verse

67 notes · View notes

theconstantsidekick · 10 months

Text

Randy's Donuts In A Suit Of Armor

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader (little bit of flirting)

Genre: A bickering fluffy look back at the good times.

Summary: Tony just wanted a goddamn donut after wrecking the shit out of his birthday party by being an asshole. He tried to throw himself a donut-themed pitty party but the universe is never that kind.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Death, Hints of Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Past Trauma.

a/n: dedicated to my dear reader @third-broparcelicito who wrote a whole-ass essay for me which kept me going through a rough time. Thank you so much.

sidenote: I just missed Tony a lot, ok?

“Sir! I’m gonna have to ask you to exit the donut.”

And man if that doesn’t throw Tony for a spin, cause when he looks down on the source of the voice, there stands a man in an all-black ensemble with a fucking eye-patch. If you don’t know where this is headed, in some ways Tony’s fucking jealous of you.

Reluctantly, he makes his way down and into Randy’s Donuts.

Seated opposite Fury in a booth that feels all too suffocating in his fucking suit made of gold-titanium alloy, with a coffee that was brewed at least two days ago sitting in front of him, and a giant-green-monster-who-tore-up-Harlem sized hangover crushing his head, he makes his displeasure at the situation known. “I told you I don’t wanna join your super-secret boy band.”

“No, no, no. See, I remember, you do everything yourself. How’s that working out for you?” Fury challenges.

“It’s… It’s… It’s…” Does it really look like he’s in the mood for a challenge? So, he deflects. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna get off on the wrong foot. Do I look at the patch or the eye?” Lowering his sunglasses, he adds, “Honestly, I’m a bit hungover. I’m not sure if you’re real or if I’m having—”

Leaning in, Fury replies, “I am very real. I’m the realest person you’re ever gonna meet.”

Well, fuck, he thinks.

“Just my luck.” He looks over at the counter, “Where’s the staff here?”

The movement gives a full on show of his… situation? Yeah. Situation, let’s go with that. Fury gets a view of the situation he has at hand.

Fury’s hand comes flying to his neck, where he presumes his situation has become evidently concerning because then Fury says, “That’s not looking so good.”

“I’ve been worse.” He’s lying… kind of. The only thing he’s seen worse than this was back in the cave, which as is infamously known, not the best so, yeah. He’s kinda lying.

Anyway, what Tony sees next makes him want to spit his coffee out. Only thing stopping him is the fact that he might spit it on Fury and he doesn’t really wanna die in Rusty’s Donuts, hungover and shamed. He’d rather let the palladium poisoning take him out.

“We’ve secured the perimeter but I don’t think we should hold it for too much longer.”

Well, fuck times two.

Looking over the top of his glasses in complete and utter disbelief, trying and failing awfully to contain his shock at this absolutely, “Huh,” he says. “You’re… fired.”

“That’s not up to you,” Replies Natalie—who is definitely not Natalie, from Legal, cause she’s wearing a full on S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent bodysuit and currently in the process of taking a seat next to Fury.

“Tony, I want you to meet Agent Romanoff,” Fury introduces her with what seems like giddy excitement? Who even knows. He’s a fucking spy, Tony trusts nothing about him. Fuck Tony thinks maybe he doesn’t trust anyone anymore, especially since Natalie Rushman is actually Agent Romanoff, who says the perimeter is secure.

“Hi,” Tony replies, while facepalming in some more shame.

“I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D. shadow. Once we were informed that you’re ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury,” Natalie, fuck! No. Not Natalie. Agent Romanoff explains.

“I suggest you apologize,” Tony says looking her dead in the eyes.

“I agree, Nat,” Comes another voice, and like, honestly? At this point he’s DYING to die at the hands of the palladium cause living has brought him no joy whatsoever. Not when his sister is just… everywhere. “You deceived me,” She says as she slides in to sit next to Tony. “You made me fall in love. I was going to marry you. We were going to have two adorable little children and live a long happy life as that weird family at the end of the most suburban lane with the lesbian moms and their adopted asian babies. You really should apologize.” She steals his coffee and takes a sip, stopping only for a second to make a face of pure disgust. “You broke my heart. Oh and, the perimeter is very much not secure… The north exit? Wesley I think his name was? Yeah, he’s down.”

“How did you—” Natali—fuck. Not Natalie is about to ask something that Y/n can very obviously not answer honestly, so he cuts in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted a donut,” Y/n replies easily, like it’s the most boring thing in the world.

“You wanted a donut?” Huh?

“It’s a Pavlovian response; whenever I feel a deep, profound sense of disappointment I crave a donut, because you give me a fucking ‘apology donut’ everytime you disappoint me… which is really often.” She says it with air quotes and all.

“I don’t do it that often,” Tony tries to defend.

“You do it often enough for me to develop a fucking Pavlovian reponse to it, don’t you?”

“You’re making shit up, there is no chance in hell that I do it that often. I’m the pinnacle of siblinghood. I’m absolutely the best brother anyone could ask for, ever, and you know it,” He argues because well, he is.

“A pinnacle?” She scoffs. “The only thing you’re the pinnacle of is being a self-destructive asshole.”

And what kinda shit is that to say to your beloved brother? Honestly, that’s just disrespectful if you ask him.

“Guess who I learned it from,” He throws back… like a self-destructive asshole.

“Hey, hey, HEY!” Fury shouts as if he’s trying to quiet the two bickering children. Which, yeah, he might as well be doing just that. “I’m not here to take part in your bullshit. I’m here, cause you’ve been very busy. You made your girl your CEO, donated half your shares to your sister, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit. Now, if I didn’t know better—”

“You don’t know better,” Tony cuts him off. “I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Fury exclaims in the most mocking tone known to mankind. “He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass and took your suit?” He turns to Nata—Agent Romanoff (fuck!), adding, “Is that possible?”

Ever so slyly, she replies, “Well, according to Mr Stark’s database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.” She looks right at him, with a challenge in her eyes that unsettles Tony… this might just be the start of a beautiful friendship.

“What do you want from me?” He asks. Cause, come on. He’s doing the best that he can, given the cards that have been dealt.

“I don’t want anything from you—” He shrugs, almost reassessing his statement and deciding to roll with it. “Mostly nothing. You should be asking her instead.” He points to Y/n, meanwhile Nat—(motherfucker!) Agent Romanoff gets up and walks out. “She’s the one who called us in.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Tony’s about to blow his fucking gasket.

But Y/n is calmer than ever, which if you know her is the most normal thing for her. “You’ve been behaving exactly the way you did when you got chicken-pox and thought you were going to die.” She turns to face him. “You’re exacerbating the problem by scratching away at the poxes like there is no tomorrow meanwhile giving away all your toys to people you love and leaving goodbye notes.” He almost forgot about that one, fuck. “I hate to break it to you, but Howard might have returned your G.I. Joe action figure, but Rhodey sure as shit not giving the suit back.” He remembers that. He had to beg Dad to give the toy back. Howard had only given it back because he’d made mom intervene.

She shakes her head with a sort of disappointment then. “I don’t even want to think about how concerning it is that your self-destructive patterns haven’t changed a bit since you were four fucking years old.”

Before he can respond, Fury cuts in, “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with.” What happens next, Tony has no time to register. There’s barely a second long pause before Fury looks up and commands, “Hit him.”

Suddenly there’s something being injected into his neck and his body is almost on fire from it. “Oh, God, are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?” Fidgeting with his hands around the neck he looks up at Nata—goddamn it! He looks up at Agent Romanoff who holds the now empty injection in her hands, he says, “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds” He looks back at Fury, “What did she just do to me?”

“What did we just do for you,” He corrects. “That’s lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work.”

“Give me a couple of boxes of that. I’ll be right as rain,” Tony says.

“It’s not a cure, it just abates the symptoms,” Agent Romanoff explains.

“Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix,” Fury comments.

And you know what? He’s been ambushed twice in this conversation by people he thought he knew. And that’s not even counting the random injection of a so-called cure into him. So yeah, he’s a little short on patience. “Trust me, I know,” He says, with enough distaste that it makes Fury lean back. “I’m good at this stuff. I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

Fury leans back in, looks him in the eyes and says, “Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven’t tried them all.”

That stumps him for a second. Because, well you see, Tony’s been convinced he’s dying of this thing, this thing in his chest that while being absolutely foreign is an integral part of him now. He’s dying of the thing that he made to save himself and that’s been consuming his every waking (and most of his sleeping) hour. He had prepared himself for the worst, ready to face the bitter end, rotting from the inside out. It was a fitting way to go, he’d thought. The rot outside of him will have matched his insides. But that was his hubris.

How could he have thought he could decide to give up on his own life, as if he didn’t share it with someone. That too with someone who was just a little bit more stubborn than him.

Suddenly, “All that remains is the matter of your signature,” Na—Agent fucking Romanoff says from next to them as she places a document in front of Y/n. “Just sign here and here, and we’re good to go.”

The tone of the room changes in an instant. He has seldom seen his sister uncomfortable, so you best believe he senses the change coming from miles away.

“Signature for what? What the hell is this?” Tony asks, completely confounded.

Y/n shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “I gave you my word, we shook hands—that should be more than enough. I don’t do documentation. You know that,” she says looking at Fury.

“You don’t do digital documentation,” He pushes the papers closer to her. “This is analog.”

Tony’s had enough.

“What the fuck are these for?” He asks, loudly.

“Integration of Y/n Stark as a S.H.I.E.L.D. Liaison,” Agent Romanoff replies easily.

He turns to his sister. “Ah. Of course, I’m the self-saboteur in the family. The only one.”

“Tony—”

He’s not in the mood to listen to her bullshit. “What the actual fuck, Y/n? Have you fucking lost your mind? You want to be a fucking liaison for S.H.E.I.L.D?”

“Are these rhetorical questions or are you hoping for a response?” The nonchalance in her attitude pisses him off even more.

“Where is all this attitude coming from, young lady? You really think this is a situation where you should be running your mouth—”

“Oh my fucking god! Tony! What the hell was I supposed to do? You were dying, literally being poisoned by this thing in your fucking chest and I was supposed to do what? Sit back and watch?”

“Do not put this on me. This is not on me! How is this on me? This is a decision you made! By yourself!”

“I didn’t make it in a fucking vaccume, did I—?”

“Everything is my fault? All of it? I am not taking responsibility for your stupidity—”

“—MY STUPIDITY?!! You’re the one who put decided to put a fucking magnet in your chest, jerkface—not me!”

“I’m sorry my solution to being blown up by a missile was inconvenient for you—a missile which by the way had my own fucking name on it—I didn’t have much choice in the matter—”

“UUUGGGGHHHHH! FUCK!! Here we go again. Here we go for the millionth time—”

“—On account of me being held prisoner in the fucking desert!”

“Are we still milking that? Really? Are all your future crimes absolved cause you were kidnapped‚—”

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I was abducted! And do you think I liked—”

“You did like it! You said it yourself, you narcissist—”

“That was a fucking joke, Lincoln Lawyer!”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You’re telling me you can’t gauge tone difference now? Really? You childish little shit—”

“You’re a fucking childish little shit—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Fury shouts. “Shut up—” he cuts off any protest from the siblings before it even forms, “—the both of you. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.” He fixes them with a look which makes the two Starks silently climb back off of each other and take their seats; once again a part of polite society. This must please Fury to some degree, because he clears his throat before continuing, “Now, here’s the deal, you both will sort this little quarrel out on your own damn time.” He looks over at Y/n, “And you have to sign this, we need proof of some sort. Besides, you will have access to some of the nastiest secrets known man, there has to be some sense of accountability? If you catch my drift?” Reluctant as ever, Y/n just grits her teeth in displeasure but remains otherwise silent. Fury takes this as her assent and moves on to him, “And you! She did this cause you were being a little shit about all of this. So, just be a little nicer maybe?” When Tony remains silent as well he takes that to be an agreement too. He gets up and out of his seat, brushes himself off and then begins to walk away, stopping only for a second to say, “I’ll see you crazy kids back at your place.” With that Fury is gone, and Agent Romanoff along with him.

There is a short silence between the two. It’s something like tense, but not really.

Tony decides to break it. “You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

He can feel her shrug next to him. “Eh, it was for the best.”

“How?” Tony questions. “You hate all this spy stuff.”

She leans back, hands back in her pocket. “I actually kinda love the spy stuff. I just kinda sorta hate S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Then why go back?”

There is a beat before she replies, “You were suffering. I hate watching you hurt.”

Af if he didn’t know that. The woman burnt the books that gave him paper cuts.

He sighs. “We could’ve fixed it… found a way. We would have.”

“That was the whole problem, Tones. Ever since you’ve put on the damn suit we haven’t been ‘we’. It’s been you in the suit, you in the lab, you alone.

“That’s not—”

She cuts him off even before he has the chance. “And I understand that I can’t be there all the time and I understand that maybe it wasn’t your intention to cut me off, but none of what you’ve done with regards to all this has been a unanimous decision.”

“I—” he takes a second to reassess before he says anything further, because yeah, maybe she isn’t wrong. Cause right now her breath smells of cigarette smoke and she did just decide to sign herself away to an organization she had come to despise. That would all seem like an overreaction if Tony hadn’t been acting alone, especially from Y/n who is, for all intents and purposes, the most chill person he knows. So, yeah, maybe he fucked up a little bit. So he says, “I—I’m sorry.” He licks his lips. “I was a little too focused on not pulling you back into all this that I just ignored that fact that I was pushing you away all together.” Fuck. He takes a breath. “It’s always us against the world.” He knocks on his suit,”This tin-can won’t change that.”

She looks over at him then, “I know.” She smiles a little “We’re good.”

Nodding, he smiles too. “So, what now? You gonna sign these?” He asks, pointing at the papers in front of them.

“Yep,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“You think Fury will back out of helping me if you don’t?”

“No, no I don’t,” she answers. “But I’ll sign it anyway.”

“Why?”

“I need the access to the intel that they have.”

Tony has to laugh at that, “Oh yeah, you need them to gather intel. It’s not like you have a whole secret network of informants around the world or anything”

She rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Yeah well, it’s more than that, okay? There’s something going on at S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury’s planning something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I need this,” she pulls the papers towards her. Pulling out a pen, she signs them. “I gotta be on the inside to figure it out.”

Reaf the next part here. Find the series masterlist here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

tag list : @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @roxannejblack @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987

hit me up if you wanna be added to the tag list.

134 notes · View notes

thepetesimp · 3 months

Text

For all the time I've been losing my mind over Pete's tattoo (to the point of getting it tattooed on my own fucking body), I've never really talked about it here, have I? Well. Let me do it now I guess.

The first thing I would like to present here is the origins of Pete's tattoo from the novels. I know, I know, the novels suck and I wasn't proud of including it in Trust is a fragile thing but it was compelling enough that it fit Pete's characterization. A broken clock shows the correct time twice a day or however the phrase goes. Apparently, Tankhun forced all his bodyguards to get tattoos at some point, and Pete got that one for reasons I'm not aware of. I've heard people say that Daemi found the phrase nice and tbh, I believe those people. The purpose of its usage becomes clear in this snippet taken directly from the novels:

(I can go on a whole ass rant about what we're witnessing here, but I'll spare you the headache.) So, what is the actual origin of the phrase? For the people who don't already know, it's from "All's Well that Ends Well", a play written by Shakespeare. It's about a woman who's given in marriage to the man she longs for, but, because she is of lower rank, he refuses to accept the marriage. The phrase, as always with Shakespeare, has more than one meaning and shouldn't be taken at face value. I had found a wonderful analysis about it here:

I find it fascinating how it works with Pete so well, despite Daemi being oblivious to its true meaning. I also find the fact that it works for Pete no matter how you interpret the phrase, equally fascinating. You can take it literally and connect it with Pete's job; how he's honest about the violence he inflicts, the activity he's enacting for the Theerapanyakuls, how he's accepted the nature of it, how "there are no heroes or villains in this world" and so on. You can add his loyalty in there too and make it even juicier. You can also take it ironically and connect it with Pete as a person; how he's not actually honest - he's not open about himself, his desires, his feelings - so with this, it's like he's admitting that he has no legacy. It encapsulates his lack of personhood and it's fucking brilliant. Him sneering at Vegas slightly when he told him "There's no such thing as honesty in this world" after seeing the tattoo on Pete still gives me brainworms, because both of them are thinking of different things here. To me, Pete is thinking of the literal sense which I described above, while Vegas is talking about how people are deceitful and will just lie through their teeth to get what they want (like him). I don't know if that's what the intention was, but them having completely different concepts in mind is something I believe strongly. Now, one very, very important aspect of Pete's tattoo is its position. In the novels, it's on his chest, more specifically on his left side, where his heart is:

Not so subtle, Daemi, huh? The show changed that, as we all saw, and ooohhh what a glorious choice, I love it so much. For a couple of reasons:

The position is more sexual, which contradicts Pete's seeming naivety in regards to sex and romance in the show (proof being, every interaction he had with Porsche, plus the infamous "Kissing is for people we like only"), making everything he and Vegas did in ep12 not come out of nowhere.

It's super fucking low. Obviously it is, given it's his hip but I implore you to look more carefully at the screenshot I shared above, because the distance between his belly button and his tattoo rivals Kinn's open shirts. Istg you can see faint hints of pubic hair right below "No legacy", I swear I see it I'm not insane.

The tattoo being so low means Pete will only be able to see it when naked. I say only naked because even with only his underwear on, it's still hidden. Almost like it's something he'd want to hide even from himself, hmmm curious.

Another fun thing about the tattoo, which kind of applies to both the novel and the show, is the fact that, since it's a phrase, Pete will not be able to read it unless he looks in a mirror and sees the reflection (something I realized by wanting to read my own lol). Alas, another barrier Pete puts on himself to prevent introspection. (I will not touch upon mirrors here, but Pete and mirrors oooohh, what a concept I would love to explore one day.) I could talk about this all day, but I think I got the main points across. I lovelovelove this so much and I'd love to see if there are more analyses of Pete's tattoo out there. Please bring them to my attention if you have them.

#I've been meaning to write this post since November lol #my writing juices are running out it seems #the burning desire to unravel every facet of Pete is still here though #and it ain't leaving anytime soon #kinnporche the series #pete phongsakorn saengtham #kinnporsche meta

18 notes · View notes

aerequets · 2 years

Text

even twilight

Summary: He sat isolated in the middle of the empty warehouse, far from any walls or scrap that could be utilized as weapons. A thin stream of blood trickled down his temple from where he’d been struck on the head and taken out. Even Twilight couldn’t get out of this one.

read on ao3

a/n: so im not really sure what this is, or if i like it that much in terms of the writing, BUT i just think twiyor should kiss and smile at each other in love. thats all

also joint missions. i need them to rub off on each other

Twilight’s wrists and ankles were bound to the back of a chair in iron cuffs, looped around several times over in thick metal chains. The chair itself was metal as well, the legs smooth, leaving no room for splintering wood giving any semblance of an advantage. He sat isolated in the middle of the empty warehouse, far from any walls or scrap that could be utilized as weapons. A thin stream of blood trickled down his temple from where he’d been struck on the head and taken out.

Even Twilight couldn’t get out of this one. This was a fact that one smug Zachary Deich knew well.

Zachary had unwittingly struck gold earlier that evening when one of his men discovered the infamous spy, Twilight, rifling through his office during the time Zachary was at work. For such a well known spy, the man was an idiot. He was bare faced and so absorbed in looking for—Zachary assumed—the financial ledgers about seizing Westalian citizens’ assets that he didn’t even notice the ambush coming from behind until he was knocked out cold. And besides, what reasonable politician kept volatile documents like that in their main office? Zachary almost couldn’t believe that the underwhelming man he caught was the Twilight, but he knew he wasn’t mistaken. He’d wasted no time in leaving work, getting the spy transported to a remote location, divesting him of his guns, and tying him down.

He wasn’t going to let this kind of golden opportunity slip.

“Hey.” He patted Twilight’s cheek twice, none too lightly, before slapping him outright. Twilight coughed and slowly pried his eyes open. “Rise and shine. Oh, wait. That kinda goes against your whole ‘twilight’ schtick, doesn’t it? My bad.”

Twilight said nothing, only glared, drawing a chuckle from Zachary. “I guess you’re not a man of many words. Not to worry. We have all the time in the world to get into conversation.” Zachary slowly paced around Twilight, circling like a predator did prey. “All the tales about you had me expecting…more. You’re not as big as I thought you’d be.” He slapped the side of Twilight’s head—the side matted with blood—snickering with delight. “Not as smart or tough, either. All it takes to catch the best Westalian spy is to sneak up from behind with a lead pipe, huh?”

Twilight maintained his silence. This time Zachary’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “You won’t be so keen to bite your tongue when my guys get in here.” He leaned in close, musty breath washing over Twilight’s ear. “There are lots of people that want you dead out there. Not me. I want you alive. Just barely enough that you’ll wish you were dead and beg within an inch of your life. Maybe, just maybe if you do everything I ask, I’ll let your sorry ass live.”

With calculated slowness, Twilight opened his mouth. His voice was far gone, nothing more than a throaty rasp. “You’re pretty confident.”

“Huh?!” Zachary straightened up before bursting into full-bellied laughter. “Hey! You should be a comedian instead. What the hell is that? Confident? You’re the confident one, spewing that shit while you’re tied in chains!” His laughter echoed throughout the empty warehouse before receding into an annoyed growl. He consulted the expensive watch on his wrist. “Dammit. Where are those bastards?”

As if on cue, one of the big doors to the warehouse creaked open, letting in watery moonlight. A group of 6 men walked in, carrying two large crates between them. Dubious instruments with a variety of spikes, prongs, and sharp edges poked out of the boxes.

“Finally. What took so long?” Zachary asked.

“Sorry, boss.” The man at the front, Eddie—the same one that had knocked Twilight out—apologetically rubbed his head. “Got caught up with the truck. Engine gave out.”

“Whatever. Just get over here.” Zachary eagerly rubbed his hands together. “The fun’s about to begin.”

“You wanted to seize Westalian assets,” Twilight suddenly said. His voice was less raspy, but still off. “Not just any assets, but those belonging to civilians. Innocents.”

“No such thing as innocent Westalians,” Zachary replied as he rifled through a crate, holding up a pair of pliers in consideration. “You should know that, shouldn’t you? Western pig.”

“Do you know the best way to lower someone’s defenses?” Twilight asked. Zachary raised a brow at the abrupt change in subject.

“Suddenly chatty? Should we see if that changes if we take out a tooth or two?”

“You could get close to them, sure. But there is a better way,” Twilight continued, undeterred by the threat. And really, what was wrong with his voice? It sounded light and airy, completely unbefitting of the situation, making Zachary’s face redden with anger. The politician plunged his hand deep into the crate and pulled out a shucking knife.

“I’ve decided. We’ll start with your eyes. Don’t need to see to talk, right?”

He was hoping to see at least a little fear in the asinine spy’s face. Infuriatingly enough, Twilight grinned and said,“The best way to get someone to lower their defenses is to make them think they’ve already won.”

“Enough with your bullshit,” Zachary seethed, quivering with barely suppressed rage. He shoved the knife into Eddie’s palm. “Hurry up! Let’s see if he wants to blabber with an empty eye socket.”

“On it, boss,” Eddie replied. He then slammed the hilt of the knife into the neck of the man hefting the crate up. The tools clattered onto the ground along with the goon’s body.

Zachary leapt back, face contorting in a mixture of disbelief and rage. “E-Eddie?! What the hell are you—”

A sharp popping sound cut him off. He turned back to Twilight just in time to see him rip his arms out to the side, thick ropes of metal shearing apart as if they were strings of yarn. He did the same with his legs, effortlessly kicking out and snapping the chains constricting his ankles without a visible ounce of effort.

That was not possible. That was not physically possible. Twilight was not supposed to be able to rip metal apart with bare muscle.

“You’re right,” Twilight said as he stood. Only then did Zachary realize he’d spoken out loud. “Twilight can’t. But I can.” Then, he reached up and ripped his own face off. Zachary’s knees gave out and he slumped to the dusty floor, uncomprehending of what he was seeing.

“Zachary Deich,” the stranger murmured, in that light, airy—feminine—voice. “May I have the honor of taking your life?”

Zachary was so out of sorts that he didn’t even notice Eddie, his closest man, spinning around and knocking out his three remaining goons with well-placed hits. He did the only thing he could think of. He reached inside his coat for his gun.

Twilight was faster. He—she?—lashed out and gripped his hand in a vice hold, grinding bone together and crushing the gun. A scream tore out of Zachary’s throat right as the gun in his hand fired off into his own torso. He was dead before his face hit the floor.

It was just Twilight and Eddie in the warehouse, surrounded by bodies, metal shards, and torture instruments. A macabre sight indeed.

Eddie ripped his face off; Loid ruffled his hair. “That went well.”

“Phew.” Yor shrugged off the padded suit jacket mainly responsible for increasing her visual bulk. “I think we managed to make good time, too.”

Loid carefully stepped around the growing pool of Zachary’s blood. He touched a gentle hand to Yor’s temple. “How’s your head?”

“Oh, this? Pretending to be knocked out by something that felt like a leaf landing on my head was a little challenging.” She smiled and leaned into his palm. “It was honestly harder keeping that sweaty mask on.”

“Yeah?” Loud smiled and picked a stray piece of wax off her face that had stuck. “You looked cool for the big reveal, though. It seems like all that practicing paid off.”

“Thanks.” She blushed a pretty pink. “Your kicks were really good, too.”

“I learned from the best.”

Yor sighed in contentment as Loid leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Was it weird that she found their current setting romantic?

They were soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps stomping into the warehouse. They pulled apart just as Franky stormed in.

“Come ON! This is already way above my paygrade, I don’t need you two wasting time kissing on top of everything else! I swear you guys only do this to get on my nerves.”

“Thanks, Franky,” Loid called after the informant/babysitter/getaway driver as he plodded out of the warehouse like a petulant teenager. Yor couldn’t help but laugh.

“I feel kind of bad now.”

“Don’t,” Loid grumbled. “I paid him plenty to simply hotwire a car. He almost left me stranded, too.”

“But you got the documents, didn’t you?” Yor asked.

Loid pulled a sheaf of papers out of his jacket pocket, Zachary’s scrawled signature on the sheets visible. “Of course. I think these will make good kindling if we ever decide to go camping.”

“Ooh, I think Anya would really enjoy camping!” Yor craned her neck, gauging the position of the moon in the sky through the warehouse door. “Speaking of Anya, I think we better head back. She’s probably driven Yuri up the wall by now.”

Their daughter had done it no small number of times before. Sometimes Loid thought she saw it as a game, seeing how fast she could put Yuri in tears. He was unable to keep a grin off his face at the thought.

In the past, that—not being able to keep down a smile—would have thrown him into an internal frenzy about losing his edge as a spy. But he could contend with being a bad spy if it meant having what he had now. An enigmatic, frustrating, wonderful daughter. A warm apartment, one mall ticked with marks measuring her height. A dog that had too-good instincts and shed way too much fur. Even an overzealous brother-in-law.

A family.

And none of it would be possible without the woman beside him. Sometimes, when he had a rare ounce of free time and was feeling particularly introspective, he tried calculating the odds of their chance meeting. The chance that Anya would have said just the right words for Yor to inquire about his first (actually fake) wife. The chance that, just somehow, he’d managed to meet perhaps the only other person who could, and did, accept him as he was.

The result was always tiny. Infinitesimal. And yet, against all odds, here they were.

“Mmm.” Without warning, he planted another kiss on her lips, drawing a startled laugh out of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Your brother will take his time in leaving,” he replied. Another kiss. “This is the last chance I’ll have to do this for a while.”

Yor wound her hands around his neck, eyes darkening in the way Loid knew meant that she was about to put all of her focus into what she was doing—

The truck outside revved, loud and angry. Yor jumped back, concentration broken, and Loid’s eye twitched as he thought of 62 different ways to shave Franky’s head.

“We really should get going.” Yor giggled and took his hand. He let out a sigh, letting all thoughts of Franky go for the moment. They stepped around the fallen bodies, puddles of blood and torture instruments together, strolling in the dark warehouse as if it were just another day. Was it weird that he found their current setting romantic?

Yor twined her fingers through his. The action brought another smile to his face. Smiling was so easy now. It had been for a while; the nature of Operation Strix was like that of a spider web, entrapping him thoroughly and rendering him helpless.

Even Twilight couldn’t get out of this one. But he found that he didn’t mind.

#spy x family #sxf #spy x family fic #sxf fic #loidyor #twiyor #loid forger #twilight #yor forger #thorn princess #anya forger #yuri briar

296 notes · View notes

mostly-marvel-musings · 2 years

Text

Nose kisses

Summary: Started off as an embarrassing accident, you and Tony have a secret for lifting each other’s spirits in an instant. Nose kisses!

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff and nothing else.

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Square filled: Nose kisses

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Written for @avengersbingo It is FLUFF CENTRAL. Enjoy!

Avengers Bingo Masterlist

An ice-cream date with the billionaire genius was the last thing you had expected.

But well, here you were. Nervous out of wits and fiddling with your fingers under the table as you waited for your order.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Tony’s leg nervously bouncing against the footrest too. It made you chuckle out loud.

“What happened?”

“Huh? Nothing uh…too much coffee?”

You murmured, pointing to his feet with another nervous laugh. You assumed it was the excess caffeine that had him all fidgety, when in fact it was that same nervousness that had you flustered.

A self-assured man to the world was quite anxious about this date, only because he didn’t want to mess it up. Tony’s reputation preceded him, and he did not want it to bother you or for you to have any preconceived notions about him.

Ever since he had laid eyes on you, he was enamoured, something about you drew him in. The urge to get to know you better grew with each passing day, until one day his AI decided to bother you with little questions about your likes and dislikes, bringing to your attention that the infamous Iron Man was interested.

“Yeah, that and lack of sleep?” He lied, willing his nerves to calm down.

From the time you’d become a part of the team, he felt you distanced yourself from him, you wouldn’t interact much apart from work stuff really. He had a feeling you disliked him, which was a first, because let’s face it, the man wasn’t used to rejection, especially not from women.

As time passed, Tony learned about your personality, that you took your time to open up to people. And that once you did, what an absolute delight you were, someone so individualistic and unique, strong yet vulnerable.

Your ice-creams arrived right on cue, nudging you out of your reverie.

“You know, I had a feeling you hated me before.”

“Really? What made you think that?”

“I just—we never really spoke, you were very quiet, reserved and…”

“You were busy in your lab.” You finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah.”

Tony’s nervous foot tapping had resumed and you shifted closer in the booth to place your hand on his thigh, making him stop immediately and let out a little sigh of relief as you offered him a warm smile.

Your touch was comforting, he noted, his heart fluttering at the gesture.

“And what do you think now?”

Tony smiled, placing his hand on top of yours gently.

“I think I’m chipping the ice away?”

“I always liked you the best, Tony.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself, realizing what you’d said.

“The best huh? That’s a revelation.”

There was that signature smirk, the man was pleased with himself now and his brown eyes bore into yours, making your cheeks burn. To hide it, you scooped a big spoonful of your ice-cream and swallowed, ignoring the instant headache that pierced through as the dessert made its way down your throat.

A tiny bit of ice-cream remained on the corner of your mouth until Tony reached forward to clean it with his thumb, licking it off rather teasingly while maintaining eye contact with you. The man was definitely on a mission to get you flustered, and he was succeeding beautifully. He found you endearing, not that he’d admit out loud but he was pleased seeing the effect he had on you. The way your mind worked fascinated him, because it was so different from his own. The way your eyes lit up when you spoke about things you were passionate about, the way your head tilted to a side while he spoke, you listened intently, with the intention of understanding and not just replying.

After your date, Tony walked you back to your room even though you stayed in the same Compound. Leaning against your door frame, he scratched the back of his head while you silently waited for him to ask you out on another date. Given the semi-awkward nature of what had transpired, you thought your chances were low but Tony managed to surprise you again.

“That was the best time I’ve had in a long, long time, (Y/N). And I would like to assume you did too.”

“I wouldn’t dwell too much on assumptions but, I had a lovely time too, Tony.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully before chuckling and standing on your toes to go for an innocent kiss on his cheek. What you didn’t anticipate was him leaning down to do the same and as result, Tony’s lips met your nose in a kiss midway. It took half a second for both of you to realise what happened before you giggled and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Perfect.” He whispered.

You were about to head inside when he grabbed your hand and spun you back around, this time meeting your lips with his in a gentle but swoon-worthy kiss. You felt his arms slide around your waist as he pulled you closer, nibbling on your bottom lip softly, letting out a soft grunt as your fingers found purchase in his hair.

You wished the kiss would never end and so did he but for the time being, you broke apart, touching foreheads and smiling ear to ear.

“Perfect.”

You repeated his words, letting out another giggle as Tony purposely kissed the tip of your nose before saying goodbye, your heart fluttering wildly inside your ribcage long after he had left.

…

“Tony, would you pay attention to this, please? I don’t want you getting hurt.” You exclaimed for the third time that evening, holding the knife up in exasperation.

Tony of course paid no heed to your requests; he had done all but that. Slipping his arms around you from behind, he had been distracting you by littering small kisses along your neck, conveniently slid his shirt that you wore down your shoulder to expose more of your skin to him. His soft beard tickled your skin as he rubbed it along the expanse just to make you giggle and squirm.

“Well, you’re hurting me now.” He pouted when you elbowed him away, raising his hands up in defeat when you glared at him, knowing you couldn’t resist those doe eyes.

He had insisted on cooking you a nice dinner that evening, knowing how hard you’d been working that week. He did his best to convince you that FRIDAY had him updated with the basics of cutting and chopping, but you didn’t trust the man in an environment that was not his lab.

“I appreciate your trust in me, honey, I really do. And I say this with all my love, shut up, have a drink and let your boyfriend take care of you for once.”

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed your shoulders and made you sit on a chair facing the breakfast table, pouring you a glass of wine before putting on an apron. You smiled into your glass as you watched him move in the kitchen, he looked adorable, especially when he was laser focused on the task at hand, filleting a fish with perfection.

You had almost predicted it, and sure enough, the knife glided under the fish smoothly but met his finger, making him yelp in pain as blood spurted out. You jumped out of your seat to grab a paper towel to help him, ignoring his “I’m fine” and “I can handle a little blood, I’ve been through worse.”

Tony sighed when you didn’t budge, finally giving in and letting you help, he was visibly upset for ruining your date night.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He mumbled quietly.

“I didn’t say anything.” A smile made its way on your face as he stared at the floor.

“What? No, I told you so?”

You grabbed his face, making him look at you before standing up on toes to kiss the tip of nose, chuckling with him as the two of you recalled your first date. From that day, nose kisses had been one of the fail-safe ways of making the other laugh.

“Can we order take out now? I’m starving.” you murmured on his lips.

“Cheeseburgers.”

…

“Mommy!”

Morgan’s giggles filled the living room as you heard her little feet scuttle somewhere around the back, Tony’s urgent whispers following.

“Mommy is hiding from us because she wants her quiet time!”

His statement made you roll your eyes and get up from your reading corner and search for the two kids you had running around the house. Morgan found you first, giggling and making a beeline for you, not realising there was a toy lying right in front of her that made her trip and fall.

Both you and Tony rushed to her to make sure she was okay, your heart breaking as big angry tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed. Lifting her up in your arms, you wiped her tears away and rubbed her back soothingly.

“You’re okay baby. I got you.”

You tried your best to pacify your child, hugging her close before Tony got her attention, making her reveal her face from your neck, still clutching you tight. You couldn’t see what he did but your heart soared at hearing your daughter’s giggles once again.

Turning around to face your husband, you let Tony take Morgan in his arms, tickling her sides to make her laugh some more before he wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you close and pressing his lips into your hair.

“Nose kisses.”

Tony Stark Taglist - @patheticallysentimental @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee @vibraniumwing @damntonystarkandhissmile @stronginawayjbb @mm2305 @underoostarks @ccbsrms

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @mcugeekposts @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap @nataliewalker93 @alexxavicry

#tony stark x reader #avengers bingo #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x female reader #tony stark fic #avengers bingo 2022 #iron man fanfic #iron man x reader #tony stark x you #iron man fluff #marvel fanfiction

144 notes · View notes

alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

Text

Stupid fucking vypper. Stupid fucking kids. Why does he even bother? It’s not like the rugrats were in any immediate danger. They weren’t in any danger, actually, they just wanted trinkets. He should stop helping them. He really should! They have stupid ideas and they want to be brave about it, but who gets bitten in the ass because of that? Steve. It’s always Steve.

He knew that danger comes with the job. However, he’s always thought that it comes with being a witcher, not with being a goddamn babysitter.

Steve takes one deep breath and it’s enough to make his head spin. He sways in the saddle. It’s been days since he last saw them all, but at least he managed to kill the beast. He chopped off its head. Extracted the venom. Just like they – again, a bunch of kids – instructed him. And if the razor-sharp claws and rows of teeth almost killed him? Well, that comes with the job too.

Whatever. He has what he needs and he won’t be visiting the swamps anytime soon. He just needs to lick his wounds for a while and he’ll be fine.

“Whoa, Mews,” he utters and burps immediately after, when the disgusting, rusty stench of blood hits his nostrils. He’s not sure whether it’s his blood or the monster’s, but the image of its enormous, ugly head already starting to rot in one of his sacks makes him want to puke either way. It stinks like a bitch. He’s lucky nothing’s attacked him yet—and he’s lucky that he still has some of those herbs to cover up the smell.

The horse neighs irritably as Steve pulls at the reins. He’s been raised by Dustin Henderson alright. The audacity is contagious.

“It’s just a quick stop. This part of the forest seems safe, don’t be a wuss,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. It’s definitely his blood that’s making him sick. He cringes when a trickle of it starts running down his face from the cut on his forehead.

Mews, who doesn’t look comforted at all, snorts again. Steve ignores it promptly. He’s not going to be talking to his horse again. He needs to change the dressings on his wounds and take a quick nap.

He ends up knocking himself out with the potions as well. This stupid vypper got him good.

He’s bad at this job.

“Well, well, aren’t you a pretty thing? Would be even prettier without that nasty cut on your cute little face.”

Steve stirs and groans. His eyelids are heavy, swollen and cracking them open seems like an impossible task, but his other senses are about to explode with too much information—the overwhelming smell of tobacco and amber surrounding him, the taste of iron and something else he can’t quite place, the sound of—

“Oh, and look at that. Bet you had some pretty eyes, too. At least before they turned them piss-yellow during those bush trials of yours, or whatever it’s called.”

He squints. The sun is already high in the sky, and although it’s obscured by something, Steve’s eyes take a while to adjust. Which shouldn’t even be necessary. Even his body is bad at this job. He decides to focus on the thing that’s obscuring his view before he gets too mopey about himself.

Well. Not a thing. A someone.

It’s a man. Young, long-haired man, with eyes bigger and rounder than the eyes of does Steve passes regularly on the track. There’s a spark in his eyes, as if unnaturally long eyelashes weren’t enough to make him look… Mysteriously interesting. He has smugness written all over his face, but he’s not smiling.

For a second, Steve wants to squirm under his diligent stare, but he stops himself. The medallion on his chest hums quietly, although it’s not indicating the presence of any monsters.

Despite his best efforts, the stranger clocks Steve’s unease immediately. The corner of his mouth quirks up. Steve sits still—there’s not much he can do anyway. He’s tied up, with his back pressed to a tree.

The man huffs. “Impressive,” he says after another beat of silence. “I’m meeting the infamous King of the Wolves. Who would have thought, huh?” He overaccentuates the alias Steve’s been given in the past, presenting him with yet another reminder of how much it stings to be mocked, even if it’s deserved.

“My pleasure,” Steve replies, courtly. “Although usually I prefer knowing who the person I’m exchanging pleasantries with is.”

His captor lets out a short laugh and tuts, sizing Steve up. “You can call me…” He makes a thinking face, looks around and tuts again when an idea supposedly pops into his head. “You can call me King of the Banished. Seems to be going along with your theme.”

Steve bites down most of the animosities he wants to spill out right now.

“And what could Your Banishment possibly want from a witcher like me?”

If a glare could kill, Steve would be dead.

The man straightens up and crosses his arms over his chest. He wanders around the small clearing in a lazy, nonchalant way, as if nothing about this whole situation is even interesting. In the meantime, Steve notices how dingy his clothes are, like they haven’t seen a washtub in a long while.

“Rumor has it that the infamous witcher has been missing for a while now. There’s a very worried bard asking after him in the nearest town’s inn, even.”

Cold shiver runs down Steve’s spine. The stranger’s trying to keep his funny ploy up, but Steve can see that he’s genuinely curious now. That he must be seeing some business opportunities here—Steve can’t let him go anywhere down that road.

“She’s got no money,” he says, opting for equal nonchalance. He goes as far as blowing a stray curl from his forehead. “If you want me for ransom. She won’t pay.”

“Hm,” the man stops, suddenly, claps his hands and spreads them next, shrugging. “Then maybe the head of the witcher is worth more than the alive witcher. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised—You’ve heard the gossip that follows you like a plague, right?”

Steve doesn’t respond. The man glances at him and slowly spreads his hands again, this time over his head, like he’s unfolding a big banner with the name of some carnival attraction. “The most unsuccessful witcher of the century. Gets beaten to a pulp everytime, but somehow still manages to slay every beast that crosses his way. Barely. But he does.” He scoffs. “There’s more, but if you haven’t heard—”

“I have,” Steve cuts him off, losing every last bit of patience. “Listen, if you want to kill me, at least take me in a fair fight. Untie me. Be a man. If the gossip is true, you’ll probably win anyway.”

The stranger has his back to Steve. He’s leaning over a bag that’s been lying on the ground, rummaging about in it. Steve can swear he hears him giggle.

“Oh, I’d gladly take you, but maybe in less hostile circumstances—”

“What?”

“Nothing, sweetness, nothing,” he takes a few steps and turns back to Steve, holding something in his hand. “Now smile for me!”

“What?”

Steve’s face pinches in an exasperated expression—which happens to be the exact thing that his captor needs. He sticks a finger inside Steve’s mouth, rubs something into his gums and in a matter of seconds, the world loses all sense and color.

When Steve wakes up again, the sun is setting and it looks like he’s alone. Still tied down, in a desperate need to take a piss, with his mouth drier than a desert and his head too woozy to think properly, but alone. He doesn’t need much more.

The rope bonding his hands is thick and holds well, but with a bit of struggling, he manages to push it upwards enough to be able to arrange his fingers properly. Sloppy job. He takes a big breath and grits his teeth. He uses Igni.

The flame is small, but Steve barely holds down a yelp when it licks the skin on his wrists. When the rope itself finally catches fire, he uses his whole power to tear it apart before the flame spreads any further. When his hands are free, he slides down and snuffs the fire with his back.

“Fuck,” he mumbles and swallows hard, both his own tears and another yelp. His wrists are raw, but they’re free.

He’s loosening up the rope around his ankles when his medallion starts to hum again. Fuck.

He works on the rope frantically and lets go of it as soon as he decides that it’s enough for him to get out when needed. He hears footsteps. His medallion is fully vibrating.

His sword and dagger are gone. He looks around and finds a nice, thick, sturdy tree branch lying near the spot of last night’s fire. Yeah. It’ll do. He reaches for it and pulls it behind him, trying to remember how he was sitting when he first woke up.

The footsteps stop somewhere behind him, suddenly. Both Steve’s senses and his medallion are screaming at him, so he purposefully evens out his breathing. He won’t have the element of surprise—he’s the one that’s being crept up on from behind.

The sound of footsteps resumes. They’re lighter, now, slower. Gentler; not unlike those of a cat. Cats aren’t too fond of Steve.

When the sound is close enough, Steve springs right into action. He jumps from behind the tree on the side opposite to the footsteps, trying to get his captor from where he doesn’t expect him, and throws a quick but forceful Aard as soon as he sees him, but the man is fast. He ducks away from the sign and throws something back—Steve dodges it, barely, and glances at it when it cuts into the nearest tree. It’s a… dart?

A moment of distraction is enough to throw him off—another dart whooshes past him and in a lucky turn of events, he turns his head in near-sync with it. Near-sync; not enough to get him.

The stranger hops past him, deftly. Steve throws another Aard. This one hits the man, finally, and Steve can look at him for the first time since this morning. He has his hair up. His ears are pointy.

He struggles so much from behind the sign Steve has to take a step back. He reaches for his branch, carefully, but not carefully enough to keep the Aard up. The elf breaks free and lurches at him with a surprising amount of force; Steve swings hard – so hard it pulls him aback – and hits his opponent in the back with effort.

A dull sound cuts through the air. The elf lets out one silent sigh and falls face-first on the ground, like a tree hacked away in an otherwise silent forest. Steve sees the expression on his face. Their eyes lock for a second before the elf’s body hits the ground. He looks a bit like he’s been betrayed.

Steve stands there, panting, looking at the body on the ground with guilt pooling down in his stomach. He’s not sure he’s killed him, but—

He takes a cautious step forward, unable to determine the state of this elf from afar. One more step. And another one.

He’s not sure, exactly, how he lands on the ground—definitely something’s pulling at his ankle, though—but suddenly, he’s pinned to it, with a tip of a knife pressed to his neck hard enough for his throat to start closing.

The elf’s thighs immobilize Steve’s torso and hips, his arm pressing Steve’s chest further into the ground. While he can barely breathe, full-body-style pinned to the ground, with a knife practically slicing his neck open, the elf’s face is so close to Steve’s he can feel his every ragged breath on his own cheeks, and envies him for it. He’d kill for a breath. He’d kill if it meant that those eyes would stop drilling holes in his skull.

The knife goes deeper into his flesh. Steve would groan if he had enough air left in his lungs to do that.

People say that when you’re dying, your whole life flashes before your eyes. It seems like the rule doesn't apply to Steve. Somehow, while he’s dying, the vision of Dustin Henderson’s shrill voice comes to haunt him.

“Eddie, what the fuck! Leave him—EDDIE!”

Weird. When he looks to the side, he can swear he sees him. He sees them all: Dustin, Lucas, Will and Mike. And Max. El. Erica. Robin?

The coldness of the knife disappears. Steve coughs and calls out for Robin, and he can swear he hears her shriek, but the blackness envelopes him before he makes sure that it’s really her.

Steve’s sitting by the fire. Not dead. Yet.

“...but you weren’t coming back, so we sent Eddie and some other members of Hellfire to find you,” Dustin explains.

“They must have split,” supplies Will, “and, uh, Eddie’s…”

“Temperamental. But he wasn’t here to harm you. He wanted to find you! And help you,” Lucas smiles like he’s trying to sell something skimpy to a very picky customer.

“He just likes to play. He’s all about the drama and the theatrics and the way he does things—” Mike stumbles over his words.

“Will make you think that he’s a big baby,” Erica explains, helpfully.

“He’s a buffoon,” Max cuts it short. “He thinks life’s a game. And with his background, he doesn’t trust anyone. But he’s alright, and he won’t hurt a fly if he doesn't feel threatened by it.”

Steve makes a face when El nods dutifully, confirming the kids’ version of the story. He hates this story, but he believes it. Weirdly.

Eddie the Banished, the leader of a group full of outcasts: elves, half-elves, humans and others, general misfits that want to belong somewhere, that want to live with others similar to them in a bubble of blissful oblivion. Safer alternative for Scoia’tael, his mind supplies. Without the killings and partaking in conflicts. Instead with a silly, made-up game about magic and monsters to make the kids forget about every shitty thing they have to go through in this world.

(Steve finds it a little funny, because both magic and monsters are real, and they are dangerous, sometimes more than anyone can imagine. This little clique, however, sees real monsters somewhere else. They see monsters and harm and hate on the streets. They see them in temples. When they pass by the towns, when they have to trade with locals. So in an unsafe world full of places unsafe for them, they created a piece of reality that’s safe specifically and only for them. Steve isn’t sure what to think about it. He won’t know until something happens. And something will, sooner or later, it’s just a matter of time.)

Steve believes it, even though he knows that there’s another side to this Eddie. He can fight. He knows how to use vypper’s venom. He carries really strong drugs around in his bag. Poisonous darts are his weapon of choice.

There’s another side to everything, but Steve won’t be asking about it this time.

He looks to the side, where Eddie’s standing with one of his friends. Other Hellfire members joined them not too long ago, but Steve hasn’t had the chance to meet any of them. They’re clinging to Eddie like he’s the center of their little world—which, to be truthful, he probably is.

Steve hisses when Robin applies ointment to the cut on his face. “Sorry,” she says, “it’s gonna hurt more, I have to redo the dressings now.” She throws a glance at the kids still surrounding them and looks back at him with her eyebrows knitted over her eyes. “Don’t you think that sending the kids away would be a great idea now, Steve? Since you have about a dozen open wounds here?”

“What?” he asks, finally peeling his eyes off the elf – well, half-elf – that almost killed him today. “Oh, yeah. Be gone, children. I forgive you,” he says, flailing his hand like he’s trying to swat an annoying fly.

“You forgive us? We thought you were dead! We wanted to—”

“C’mon, man, he gets it,” Lucas says, dragging Dustin back by his shoulders. He shoots an apologetic smile at Steve, too. Steve loves this kid, all of them, really, but when the group disperses he finally feels like he can breathe.

“I thought I was dead meat,” he mumbles to Robin. “How did I even get this job?”

Robin scoffs. “Bad parents who didn’t want you?”

“Ha-ha,” he mocks and sighs. She applies more of this goddamn ointment to his neck and goes on to wrapping the wounds. He hisses again. Robin doesn’t look him in the eye, but she clears her throat and starts speaking in a small voice.

“I thought—Try not to disappear like that again, will you? Or at least take me with you. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

You don’t want me to die somewhere alone, he thinks, and it hits him harder this time. He could have died and she wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t want her to live with this thought. He doesn’t want her to ever leave him again. He doesn’t want to die alone, without her to hold his hand. It’s selfish. But it’s true.

“Can do,” he replies, “but only if you write some badass ballad about it. In—wait, how many languages do you actually know?”

Steve groans when she smacks his shoulder.

“I believe this is yours?”

Eddie’s standing next to them, holding out Steve’s dagger. When Steve takes it, he sees that there’s still some leftover dried up blood on it. His blood. He huffs and looks up.

“And the rest of my things?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t you think I deserve some compensation for this giant bruise on my back?”

“Don’t you think I deserve some compensation?” Steve’s brows furrow when he sees the smile playing on Eddie’s lips. Robin mumbles some half-assed excuse and gets up. Traitor.

It’s quiet for a moment. They’re looking at each other with a mix of emotions Steve can’t quite place. Firelight illuminates Eddie’s face; his eyelashes cast long shadows over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally. Steve wants to be mad and spit on it, but under Eddie’s scrutinizing stare, he feels like the lie would be exposed too quickly. He’s not really mad. He’s curious. “For fooling around.”

“You mean… Almost killing me?”

“Same difference. I wasn’t planning on doing that—and I wouldn’t purposefully kill you, I swear! I used the safe darts. They were supposed to knock you out, nothing else. I just—I didn’t believe that kids were telling the truth about you.”

“You felt threatened,” Steve says, and a flash of unease appears on Eddie’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Steve shrugs. He gets it.

“No problem.”

Eddie looks at him like he’s the craziest person on the Continent. He starts laughing. Bubbly, jovially, honestly. Something warms up inside Steve’s chest; he thinks about the dagger held closely to his throat, about hot, short breaths grazing his skin, about the overwhelming smell of tobacco and amber. He laughs too, quietly, taking in the sight, the smell, the sound. When Eddie sits down next to him on the log, his fingers feel tingly, and not because of the burns.

“You know,” Eddie says, wiping happy tears from the corners of his eyes. “The gossip is only half true. You can fight. You’re not perfect, but… You could be helpful. You know, with the real monsters and stuff. If you stuck around.”

Steve finds it hard to drop his eyes from Eddie’s face, but he looks around at the misfits and weirdos and outcasts surrounding them in the camp. In their safe enclosure. He looks at Robin, hears her laugh loudly at a quip Erica’s thrown towards Dustin. He looks at the kids, scattered around like sheep on the field.

Witchers have one destiny and one purpose: to kill, and, when the time comes, to be killed. To wander, to destroy; words like “build” and “nourish” aren’t a part of their usual dictionary. Steve doesn’t know if it’s possible to fight destiny. He’s heard stories about those who tried—and failed, and failed, and failed, time and again.

But he doesn’t know his destiny. No one does. No one ever will.

When Steve looks back, Eddie quickly averts his eyes, pretending that he wasn’t looking. Steve’s throat clenches. This time, not because of the knife. He shrugs.

“Yeah, I think I could stick around for a while,” he says. Eddie glances at him and smiles. Firelight dances on his face, making it impossible for Steve not to smile back.

He can try. And if destiny fights back, he’s heard he’s not too bad at throwing punches either.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #st4 #this post has target audience of exactly one person. me #the party stranger things #robin buckley #witcher steve harrington #elf eddie munson #they arent even tags ewljleklkj #this is long. my bad #steddie fic

45 notes · View notes

tsuki-sennin · 11 months

Text

After the surprise worldwide invasion of the Bognaarok, the Ohsama Sentai have gone and done it! Knocked them back real good! However... the strange jubilation of the Bognaarok is cut short by the appearance of a mysterious man...

...yes, I'm still narrating, I can't have Jeremy be the only one around here, can I?

Spoilers, I guess...

-You must be this infamous Spiders Jeremy I've heard so much about.

-"You old. Cringe. Fail. Ratio."

-The world is about to be flipped.

-"Yeah sorry, Gira vanished. ...don't ask where he is, Racles doesn't need to know."

-Kaguragi's nerves of steel.

-Makes sense, bees are absolutely vicious critters.

-"A proper state funeral."

-...I really like your new hairstyle, Himeno.

-Absolutely immaculate.

-Gira has long fantasized about his life as a revenant.

-Based Kuroda.

-Aw that's sweet, Yanma's having fun.

-What they believe in :)

-ROBO GIRA

-"Becoming a cyborg is every dude's dream!" ...you uh... have no idea how ironic that is.

-Oh well, this is cute :)

-What've you got for us, my Queen?

-A fairy tale~!

-JESUS GIRA

-Rita is unmoved by evil, cyborgs, or Christianity.

-MOFUN

-It's important to have nice stories in times of conflict.

-Rita almost got spoiled on their blorbo show.

-I'd ask "What kind of kids' cartoon has smugglers" but when I was a kid I was a fan of the PBS Kids program Wild Kratts, starring the very same Chris and Martin Kratt behind Zoboomafoo. Wild Kratts had a rotating cast of poachers, so I can understand the importance of showing criminal masterminds.

-Awwww, Kogane-neesan :)

-As long as there is one person who believes in you.

By love and trust and faith will we be saved. A single soul's enough, when 'gainst the world We stand. Apart. Alone. Believe in me, We plead. We pray. And answer they… I will…

-By the way, go play Live A Live, it's goated.

-Hello, Jimmy.

-Oh, a lady Bug!

-Nagabajim~!

-Our boy is dead :(

-"Shut the fuck up, Racules!"

-Oh

-Uh oh

-Ohhhhh, that's spider web.

-"Waaaaaaah~! Waaaaaaaaaaah~! Girraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Cry you fool!"

-"Oh, excuse me..."

-"I don't like your idea, Racules."

-FUCKER TOOK GIRA

-"Oops~!"

-Okay, that's just silly.

-What's your deal, spider boy?

-W

-Wh

-What

-D

-Did you shit on him????

-Oh my god, you did!

-Kind of a storyteller, okay

-I mean, you guys are trying to kill people.

-I don't doubt that the Bognaarok's disdain didn't come from nowhere, considering you live deep underground while humanity gets to enjoy everything else, but-

-It's bug time, I guess~!

-That was easy!

-Oh, never mind, here comes the family!

-"You didn't die for nothing, Nagabajim~!"

-That's a solid contingency plan, I'll give 'em that.

-They ate our friends!

-Ohhhhh

-"What?! Did Nagabajim really die for nothing!?"

-Ohhhhh, there he is! Jeremy!

-Literally OP, as far as I can see.

-Venomix Shooter!

-"Oh, what took you so long, IDIOT!?"

-G

-Guys Go?

-"Sweet dreams~? :)"

-Jeremy Brasieri.

-An ancient story teller.

-More Dock In!

-Holy shit!

-That motherfucker just iced our main villain!

-JEREMY

-THIS WAS ALL ABOUT YOU ALL ALONG

-BRUH

-HE GOT ME

-DUDE

-WHAT THE FUCK

-Okay!

-Incredible first showing by King Jeremy, I guess!

-BRUH-DUDE

-WHAT

-HUH

-HOW

-WHAAAAAA

-NANDAYO!?

-EHHHHHHH!?

-Okay!

-Incredible first showing by King Jeremy, I guess!

#Rejoice O Swarming Evil! You're My King!#super sentai #ohsama sentai king ohger #ohsama sentai kingohger #kingohger spoilers #kingohger

9 notes · View notes

terrence-silver · 1 year

Note

what would 80s silver, compared to old man silver, do if beloved left him ? just for a little while to show him if he makes the same mistake again theyre gone for good.

Leaving Terry in the 80's?

Leaving Terry in any decade?

Said this a hundred times before but I really doubt you can if he doesn't want you to, regardless of the mistakes and missteps that took place --- he is the type to follow someone to the ends of the world and he has the resources and connections to pull it off too. Not to mention the tenacity. Terry Silver doesn't need to be a Billionaire with a worldwide network and near infinite resources to get back what belongs to him when he has so much intact willpower and the penchant of extreme possession. But, of course, money's simply always a plus. Private jetting to where beloved is? Following them? Stalking them? Hiring others to watch them? Bribing officials to detain them at leisure? Sabotaging them to eclipse and curve their movements? Rigging their apartments? Utilizing cameras? Eavesdropping devices? Tampering with their employment prospects, even from afar? Tampering with their finances, their livelihood? Those of their loved ones? Using their close acquittances and friends as fodder for blackmail? Covertly hurting people to get to them. Ensuring nothing and nobody is protected from him? Kidnapping them? Being the shadowy silhouette in the arm chair in the darkness of their living room at night when beloved feels safest and most secure that they've outran him and the danger he imposes and clicking on the light, there Terry is, smiling at them, lit cigar hanging from his mouth? Shark-like grin and all? You really thought you could get away from me, huh? He'd say. Thing is, there's no escape if he doesn't specifically want to give beloved escape as a rare extension of his mercy.

And Terry isn't the most merciful person.

Known fact.

He can dismiss meaningless, disposable token individuals with cold, mercenary leisure and acquire new people and new drones all the same with just as much emotional distance, but when someone truly matters, Terry Silver goes the other extreme. Should he step on and break both of beloved's legs? Is that what they want? To provoke him so he'd literally incapacitate them and ensure they can rely only on him? Those are his legs on his beloved, but if push comes to shove...he can and will damage what belongs to him and then proceed nursing it back to health only if it meant he can keep them dependent and by his side.

Do they want painkillers?

Something to relieve that infamous 'ow'?

They should promise to never run and again. Swear it.

He actually rather relishes them when they're so weak and whimpering.

Terry is ironically infinitely gentle like this, a spider with a precious little fly caught in his web, as he hurts beloved some more, a tender, slow sadist --- measured, in control and calculated, here to punish them and reminder how he felt like when they left him and this is just a molecule of the sensation he too contended with. Don't you know how much he drank? How much coke he snorted up his nose? How finely he bled his fists when you ran? How he sought to train every fibre of weakness out of his system with rigorous training and sweating? Well, now you'll experience it too and you'll understand. You'll experience him.

He loves you.

If he didn't, he wouldn't pursue you and you'd be so terribly and awfully free.

But, you'll never be free again --- not truly.

Is he cruel? Does such a thing even exist in nature?

Is the female of a Black Widow cruel when she devours her mate?

Or is it merely how things ought to be?

Naturally, even if he lets beloved go, on his own terms and conditions, naturally, and I'll the words 'letting go' very loosely and with a million quotation marks, it is simply always the calm before the storm. Terry going into figurative brumation. And his brumation can take weeks, a month, years or even decades --- depends how much he feels he strategically needs it and it can include everything and anything from reinvention, a change in bearing, a change in fashion, a change in company, in lifestyle, in the way he presents himself, in a million masks, but in the end, even if half a lifetime has passed and beloved feels they've long since moved on from the nightmare that is his love and devotion, Terry can always return to get back what has always belonged to him even if everything indicated so far that he has moved on. There is, really, no such thing as moving on from adoration for Terry Silver. Not with love. There is no letting go from actual love. No break ups. No divorces. No annulments. The taint of it never goes away, it merely changes shapes and forms. He'd rather impale both himself and beloved on a sword and die pinned on each other than ever contemplate actually setting them genuinely free.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #80's terry silver #old man terry #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; all the warnings #yandere #yandere terry silver

37 notes · View notes

ariannadi · 2 years

Text

If I Never Knew You

Part 2/? of A Girl Out of Time, slight Adaman x OC, background context as well as series overview here - also where you can read it on Ao3! ----------------------------------------------------------

The air felt… heavy. Which was odd considering Hikari hadn’t even traversed the higher parts of the Coronet Highlands yet. In fact, she had barely made it out of the ancient quarry.

Normally she would wait until daytime for an expedition in this particular area, but she had taken it upon herself to do more research on Rotom at the request of Professor Laventon. The zippity Pokémon was known to appear more frequently in the twilight hours given its ghostly nature, therefore it only made sense to head out into the hills at said time.

But previous ventures hadn’t felt like this; like an invisible force was pressing down on her chest, or watching her every move, for that matter. The young woman glanced around at her surroundings, but aside from a flock of Zubat hovering nearby nothing seemed amiss.

And then, all she could feel was ice. Ice and terror and darkness. She briefly registered her body plummeting, before everything went black.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Professor, you seem on edge. Is everything alright?” Rei asked, trying to warm his hands over the measly fire he had going. He was really starting to regret coming along on this particular survey.

Laventon, eyes trained on the trail leading to their campsite, took a moment to respond. “I’m worried about Hikari. Normally, she checks in every few hours so she and her Pokémon can have a quick rest and update me on any research. But it’s morning now. I haven’t seen her since last night,” he explained.

Rei poked at the fire with a twig he’d picked up in the hopes it would stir up the flames. “There was that shower that came through at one point; perhaps she found shelter and just stayed put?”

The professor shook his head. “She’s traversed in far worse without complaint. I’m worried, Rei. I think we should go out and search for her.”

Rei paused when he heard the tremor in his mentor’s voice, prompting him to actually glance up at the older man. “You’re truly concerned, huh?” Sighing as he rose from his pitiful fire, he made his way over to where the professor stood. “I’ll go and take a look around, then. Just stay put.”

“B-but!” Laventon attempted to protest, only for Rei to fix him with an annoyed look.

”You and I both know you’re not equipped to deal with a place as treacherous at the highlands, Professor. I’ll be back with Hikari in tow in record time, I promise.” And then the young man was off, hurrying down the trail in search of his companion.

Rei wasn’t as familiar with the highlands as he was the other survey locations around Hisui; mostly because of how dangerous the Pokémon tended to be. As far as he was aware, Hikari was the only one who actually had full authority to wander as she pleased.

He repeatedly shouted her name as he hiked about the area, causing various Pokémon to flee in different directions each time. The fact that there wasn’t a girl tailing such commotion was indeed suspicious, as Hikari was infamous for throwing herself into hordes of Pokémon in the name of research.

And that’s when he found her; unconscious and crumpled on the ground outside the ancient quarry. Yanma were curiously hovering around the young woman, but took off as soon as Rei hurried over.

”Hikari? Hikari!” he called, kneeling down and shaking her a bit, but she didn’t respond. Only then did he notice that on top of being out cold, she was extremely pale in the face and her forehead was glistening with sweat.

“Ah, damn. Hang on, Hikari. I’ll get you back to the camp.” Carefully maneuvering her into an upright position, Rei knelt and hoisted her onto his back. Gods willing, he mused once he began cautiously trekking his way down the slopes, he wasn’t too late in finding her.

------------------------------------------------------

When Hikari woke, it wasn’t to the sound of villagers pushing carts about and the distant ringing of iron being hammered. Instead, she heard the distinct beeping of an alarm clock.

But that was ridiculous. Alarm clocks wouldn’t be invented for hundreds of years. Perhaps it was Professor Laventon testing out some breakthrough contraption in his quarters next door.

”Hikari, breakfast!” came an eerily familiar voice from another room below.

Wait. When did her quarters have a second floor? And that voice…

Mom?

Hikari’s eyes flew open and she quickly sat up with a gasp. Taking a quick look around, she realized she was sitting in her old bed. In her old room. There against the furthest wall was her mahogany TV stand. The posters of Galar’s celebrity gym leaders were still plastered all over her closet door. The large bean bag chair she used to flop into after a grueling day at her summer job still sat in the corner near her desk.

She was home again, in modern Sinnoh.

But how?

”Hikari, are you coming down?” came her mother’s voice once again. Hikari nearly fell out of the bed, not even taking a moment to throw on her slippers before she practically sprinted down the stairs. Upon reaching the main floor, she skidded around the entryway and into the kitchen, where her mother had her back to her as she tidied up dishes in the sink.

”Mom?” she called out, tears beading in her eyes when the woman in question turned to face her after a moment.

”Hikari? Is everything alright?” her mother asked, but Hikari didn’t have time to answer before she was bolting into the woman’s arms with a sob.

”Mom… I missed you so much. I can’t believe I’m actually home again,” she cried, a wobbly smile forming when her mother soothingly ran her fingers through her hair.

”Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t realize you were feeling so homesick. I’m just happy you were able to come home from school for the weekend.” Hikari froze at that, pulling away slightly to look her mother in the eyes.

”That’s—No, Mom. I wasn’t away at school, I’ve been completely gone for over a year now,” she stressed. “I was sent back in time by Arceus to the settlement period, when Sinnoh was known as Hisui. I became a member of the Survey Corps and helped establish the region’s Pokédex. I-I…” At her mother’s increasingly puzzled expression, Hikari rapidly lost confidence in her recounting.

”I don’t think I’ll be making karp stew for dinner again anytime soon,” the woman muttered under her breath, then reached out to place her palm to her daughter’s forehead. “Hm… you’re not burning up, so I guess I’ll just pin this on the stew.”

Hikari rolled her eyes in exasperation. ”Mom, I’m not sick. And I’m not having a reaction from food. I swear to you I was gone; for like, over a year!”

”Dear, I’m thinking you just had a very bizarre dream,” her mother sighed. “I know how real they can seem, and I’m sure the stress of your classes isn’t helping, but you can’t let it get to you. Now, go on and grab a plate. The food will get cold if we don’t eat soon.”

Hikari, losing the will to keep arguing when the situation was evidently against her, relented. Pulling away from her mother, she did as she was told, but found that even with a homecooked meal steaming her face she couldn’t drop the question plaguing her mind.

Was all of it really just a dream?

--------------------------------------------------------

“Rei. Laventon. Irida has arrived,” Cyllene informed both men from where she was guarding the door to Hikari’s quarters.

The professor and assistant, who were parked on either side of the bed where the comatose woman lay, looked up, but made no effort to move from where they sat. When the Pearl Clan leader entered the house, they didn’t extend a formal greeting, either.

”Ingo notified me of the situation, so I came to see for myself,” Irida spoke, moving further into the room so she could examine the state of her friend. At the ghastly sight of the young woman, the clan leader’s hands flew to her mouth. “Mighty Palkia, what’s happened to her!?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Rei sighed, ringing out a cloth from a nearby bowl and pressing it to Hikari’s forehead. “She’s been unconscious for two days now, and aside from how ashen she looks and the night sweats, nothing else seems to be wrong with her.”

”It could be a poison of some kind; Gligar are common in the area she was found, aren’t they? Perhaps she was stung,” Irida suggested, taking a seat on the floor next to Rei.

“We already had Peselle examine every inch of her body when we brought her back to the village. There’s no sign of bites, scratches, bruises, or wounds of any kind,” Professor Laventon responded, shaking his head.

Irida furrowed her brow at the information. “There has to be an explanation behind this; people don’t just pass out randomly and refuse to wake.” Closing her eyes in contemplation, she shot up when an idea quickly struck. “Perhaps Calaba would know something about this, she’s lived longer than most in this region after all.”

”It’s worth a shot. And we’d definitely appreciate if you sought her out,” Rei replied, and rose from his spot. “In the meantime, I’ll prepare more of the tonic we’ve been using to keep her stable. If you’ll excuse me.”

Irida watched after Rei as he left the house for his destination, before turning back to examine Hikari a final time. “I trust that you and Captain Cyllene will keep a close eye on her, Professor?” she asked of the man with a frown, obviously worried over her friend receiving proper care.

”Don’t you worry, my girl,” Laventon reassured her, making a point to sit more comfortably. “The last thing I would even consider doing is leaving Hikari alone in this condition.”

”We will do all we can to keep her stable. And that includes keeping nosy individuals from unnecessary snooping,” followed Cyllene, still positioned at the door.

The Pearl Clan leader smiled in relief at that, and brought a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful she has people like you looking out for her. I’ll make haste for the Crimson Mirelands to look for Calaba,” she told them both with a bow before departing once again.

------------------------------------------------------

What was one to do when they were suddenly thrown back into the world they had originated from after so long? Hikari wasn’t sure, so she simply meandered about Hearthome City, getting herself re-familiarized with everything.

Her mother, who had protested her going out initially, had offered to take her to the doctor for some kind of remedy over her fixation, but the girl had declined. Even if her mother believed her to be having a mental break, Hikari knew the actuality of everything - and that was that she had indeed spent over a year in the Sinnoh of the past.

She wondered how the friends she had made during her time there were faring. Had they woken to discover her missing? Were their memories of her erased for their own peace of mind?

Just thinking of them made her throat constrict. She hadn’t even gotten to tell any of them goodbye, and now they were centuries dead.

Rei. Laventon. Irida. Mai. Arezu.

…Adaman.

While enjoying a latte from what had once been her favorite cafe, Hikari, peering through the expansive glass panes making up the exterior, noticed for the first time that the city’s historical museum sat on the opposite side of the street. She suddenly had the urge to go and do some digging in regards to the people she had encountered in the past; at least then she would be able to show it to her mother and prove she wasn’t making things up.

After finishing her coffee, that’s exactly what she did.

”Hello! Welcome to the Hearthome Historical Museum. Is there any topic in particular you’ve come to inquire about today?” the woman at the front desk warmly greeted the girl upon her entering the foyer of the building. Hikari nodded slowly, glancing around at the marble architecture within in bewilderment.

“Uh… yes. Would you happen to have any articles or exhibits related to Sinnoh during the settlement period? When it was known as Hisui.”

The receptionist seemed to ponder this, only for her eyes to all at once light up. “Ah, yes! I do believe we have a small collection of that on the basement floor. We don’t get much traffic in that part of the building — most visitors who come here wish to learn about ancient Pokémon and related mythology, so we keep those exhibits in the more prominent areas of the building.”

”I see,” Hikari replied, eyeing the elevator a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll, uh, go ahead and take a look at what you have. Thank you for your help.”

The woman offered her a bright smile. “Not a problem, my dear. We’re always eager to help blossom the minds of young folk like yourself. Be sure to take a look at our other exhibits, if you have the time!”

The basement level of the museum was void of the lavish frills the main level possessed, and most of the exhibits, lit up by nothing more than a dim lightbulb, looked to have been there for years. Even so, Hikari took her time in studying each and every one, until she came to one in particular at the far corner of the room.

“Hisui - Where Sinnoh Began,” Hikari read the title lettering aloud, then peered further into the display case. There were letters written between settlers whose names Hikari didn’t recognize, as well as some trinkets and worn trade logs. But there was no mention of a Galaxy Team. No mention of a Diamond or Pearl Clan. No mention of Almighty Sinnoh or Lord and Lady Pokémon or even potato mochi.

”I-I don’t understand,” Hikari whispered in horror, painstakingly looking over everything in the exhibit one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “They existed, they had to have existed!” Glancing over her shoulder towards the exit, she immediately made the decision to check the city’s library for any records of the experiences she had faced. It was the largest in all of Sinnoh; surely it wouldn’t let her down.

-------------------------------------------------------

“I do not understand why anyone would want to willingly live here,” Irida griped as she trudged through the sloshy bogs making up a majority of the Crimson Mireland’s environment. Her poor shoes were most definitely ruined at this point. “The humidity alone is enough to suffocate a person!”

“And yet here you are. Must not be as insufferable as you insist,” someone deadpanned from just behind the woman, nearly causing her spirit to leave her body.

”AHH!” Irida shrieked, whipping around to give whoever snuck up on her a piece of her mind. Her eyes went impossibly large when she saw who it was.

Adaman.

Uh oh.

Judging by how aloof he appeared to be, he didn’t seem to be in the know of what was going on, which Irida considered a blessing. It was no secret among the clans that the Diamond Clan leader had a certain fondness for the Savior of Hisui. If he were to find out what had happened to her, he’d likely act in retaliation without thinking things through.

”I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wandering around here unless something was amiss,” Adaman observed, sending a suspicious look her way. “You wouldn’t happen to be seeking out your warden, would you?”

”And if I am? It doesn’t mean there’s a calamity afoot. Maybe I’m just checking in with her. Frankly, it’s none of your business,” Irida shot back.

”I don’t believe you’ve ever done such a thing since becoming leader, Irida. Mostly because I insisted it was unnecessary,” Calaba, because of course the elderly woman had to show up and make things more difficult in that exact moment, said as she approached them both. “I assume you need my assistance with something? Is it a Pokémon?”

Both Adaman and Calaba stared at the young woman, waiting for an answer. They had her cornered, and Irida knew that she wasn’t leaving without one in particular storming off in rage.

”It’s… It’s Hikari.” she finally admitted in a whisper. She didn’t miss the way Adaman’s expression shifted from annoyance to concern in the matter of seconds. “Rei found her in the highlands two days ago, unconscious, but with no sign of visible injury or foul play. She hasn’t woken since and almost appears to be-“ Irida paused, not wanting to voice the word. “-I came here because I thought perhaps you might know something about such a condition, Calaba.” “Hikari…?” Adaman breathed in disbelief, staring off in the direction of Jubilife Village. Calaba, on the other hand, brought a contemplating hand to her chin.

”Hmm… I do believe I’d heard of something similar when I was younger. There may even be a scroll or two with the entire account in our clan’s collection - but it’ll take some time to search through them all.”

”I can help with that!” came a rather chipper voice given the situation, who turned out to be Arezu; likely there for Lady Lilligant. Irida could only conclude that, considering the short amount of time it took for all of them to encounter one another, the Crimson Mirelands were a lot smaller than she remembered.

”Ah, Arezu. Good to see you, dear,” Calaba greeted the young woman with a smile. “I would welcome the help in going through our records. Two pairs of eyes and hands are better than one, after all.”

The redhead opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a furious Adaman stomping past them all. Irida immediately chased after the man, trying to match his determined pace but failing.

”Where are you going?” she demanded, but he didn’t stop to answer.

”Where do you think? Hikari is in trouble; I’m not just going to stand around and wait for everyone else to figure out what’s going on.”

”You’ll only get in the way, Adaman,” Irida protested, knowing Cyllene wouldn’t tolerate his hovering. Her words seemingly had no effect on the stubborn idiot, for he continued onward in his apparent mission to help Hikari in his own way. “YOU ARE SUCH A TAUROS!” the Pearl Clan leader finally shouted at his back once she had given up the pursuit.

“Go easy on him; he’s young and possibly freaking out about his feelings. He likely just wants to see Hikari’s condition with his own eyes if nothing else,” Arezu said once she and Calaba joined up with Irida again. “It might be a good idea to follow after him so he doesn’t make a fool of himself; me and Calaba can make for the icelands in the meantime.”

”You’re sure you won’t need my help?” Irida asked, but Arezu just met her with a wide smile, one which her elderly counterpart attempted to match.

”Don’t worry, girl! We won’t let you down. Hikari will be up and prancing about again in no time, promise!”

-------------------------------------------------------

Piles upon piles of books, documents, and records of various size and age sat on the table Hikari had taken up as her personal research center within the Hearthome Library, as well as a cell phone with ten missed calls from her mother. The young woman had been parked in this spot for hours, and she was quite certain the library was about to close up for the evening, but still she continued skimming through everything she could once. Twice. Three times.

Despite her efforts, there was no record whatsoever of the people and events Hikari had encountered in Hisui. Her heart continued to sink lower and lower into her stomach with each pointless sentence she perused, and she wasn’t quite sure if the moisture beading in her eyes was from the layers of dust in the air or the fact that she was trying to hold back a massive breakdown.

”Dear, we’ll be locking the doors in another ten minutes or so,” an elderly woman told her as she walked by, arranging books on a shelf. “You’re more than welcome to check out those materials if you’d like to study them for the week.”

Hikari just shook her head wearily. “No. That’s okay,” she croaked, before rising from the table. “I’ll just go ahead and put these in the return bin.”

The old woman nodded once before returning to her duties, leaving Hikari to gather up her ridiculous collection. After depositing it all into the return bin, she slogged her way out of the building, noting that the sun was already setting in the distance. It would be wise to return home at this point, and cease the worries of her clearly stressed mother, but she found that she didn’t want to go anywhere.

So she stood frozen on the sidewalk instead, staring up towards the clouds painted with streaks of orange. That’s when the tears finally decided to make their overdue appearance, slow and silent at first, only to transition into a flood with each harrowing breath she took.

”I… I don’t want to believe they weren’t real. That everything I saw never happened,” Hikari begged to no one in particular. “What did it all mean? Why torment me like this?” It took all of her willpower to not crash to the ground, and as her distress only increased further she wound up teetering into a nearby post and grasping onto it for dear life.

“I-I want to be with them all again. I want to h-hear Mai and Irida talking up a storm. I want to eat potato mochi with Rei and t-the professor. I-I… I want to see Adaman. His smile. Just once more. Just so I know it was real.”

…Hikari?

The young woman gasped, whipping her head back and forth at the baritone voice that set her chest aflame. No one else was around, but there was no mistaking who she was hearing.

”Adaman?” she called out as tears blurred her vision, pushing herself off the post and hurrying down the road. “Adaman, where are you?”

Hey, shh… you’re safe. I’m here.

”But where?” Hikari continued to hysterically question aloud, unsure of the direction his disembodied words were coming from. She could vaguely make out continued murmurings; gentle and reassuring, and at one point was certain she could feel a steady warmth pressing against her cheek.

I’m here, Hikari…

“Adaman,” she sniffled, and placed her hand over the source of comfort despite it not being entirely there. “I know you’re here. I’m not quite sure how it’s possible, but… Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me until I can truly see you again.”

They’ll be back soon, Hikari. Just hang on.

”Hikari!”

The startled girl rotated at the sudden calling of her name, only to see her mother, dressed in her robe and pajamas, jogging towards her.

”Mom! Adaman, one of my dear friends from Hisui, he spoke to me. He’s here with me! If you just come stand right here-“

”That is enough, Hikari,” the older woman snapped, reaching for her arm. “You’ve had me worried sick for hours. Whatever this fantasy of yours is, it’s not real, and you need to let it go.”

”No!” Hikari protested, yanking her arm away. “I don’t care what you or anyone says. I know what I saw, and I know what I’m feeling now. Wherever Adaman and the others are, they’re waiting for me. I’m not going to let them go!”

And then she took off running. But as she continued down an unspecified path, the world around her only became more distorted, and her mother’s shouts and impending pursuit all the more threatening. She was tempted to look back more than once, but somehow she knew if she stopped for even a moment, that would be it.

Nothing made sense any longer, but still, she would keep running. If she were lucky, perhaps Hisui would be waiting for her just beyond the horizon.

-----------------------------------------------------

Adaman had arrived in Jubilife a day prior with an uninvited Irida in tow, and had remained at Hikari’s side since storming into her quarters despite Cyllene’s protests (as well as a sandal to his head). Rei and the professor had offered to take over watching her multiple times so he may get some rest, but he always declined. Something, perhaps Mighty Dialga itself, nagged at him to stay put; convinced that if he left for even a second Hikari’s condition would become even worse.

He prayed with his entire being that Arezu and Calaba would be successful in their search for a solution, and soon. If Hikari were lost…

The clan leader let out a shaky breath as he observed the anemic appearance of the woman, the hands in his folded lap clenching into tight fists. Hikari didn’t deserve this fate after all she had done for his homeland; to waste away unknowingly while those in charge twiddled their thumbs in helplessness. They needed to do more. He needed to do more.

”Hikari?” he prompted aloud, and swallowed thickly when there wasn’t a response of any kind. “Hikari. Please, if you can hear me, give me a sign. A sound. Anything.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it once, twice, in the hope of conveying his presence to her.

But still, nothing.

This was all just… wrong. Hikari should’ve been laughing breathlessly at the professor as his Rowlet stole his entire helping of potato mochi at dinner. She should’ve been sitting in Arezu’s styling chair and flailing her hands as they chatted about the latest gossip among the region. She should’ve been chewing at her lip and blowing loose strands of hair from her forehead as she scribbled out her latest entry of the Pokédex by candlelight.

And Adaman would be watching her all the while with the fondest of smiles, something brewing deep in his chest that he didn’t have the courage to name quite yet.

”You’re still here,” Irida, who knocked as she entered the house so not as to startle him, commented. “I figured you would have returned to your settlement by now.”

”And yet here you are,” Adaman retorted, though not unkindly. “I sent word to Mai to keep an eye on things in my place for the time being. They all adore Hikari. They’ll understand.”

Irida made her way over to where he sat at Hikari’s side, and took the spot next to him. For a while, neither spoke.

”You love her, don’t you?” Irida suddenly asked, glancing his way. Even though the abrupt question should’ve left him sputtering, it had no such effect.

”I didn’t know what to make of her, at first. After she gained the trust of Wyrdeer; after calming Lady Lilligant down from her frenzy, I began to respect both her and her natural bond with Pokémon immensely. That respect became admiration when she risked her life to calm Mighty Dialga and Mighty Palkia. And then…”

”One day, she looked at you in a certain way with those indigo eyes, and your heart began to pound like mad,” Irida finished for him, smirking. Adaman shot her a murderous glare in retaliation.

“Mai opened her big mouth, didn’t she?” he hissed, only for the opposite clan leader to hum nonchalantly in response. The man, not in the mood to press further, just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Maybe I do love her, I’m not sure yet. But what I do know is I hate seeing her like this. It’s killing me, Irida.”

”I understand, Adaman,” Irida replied, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “She means a lot to me, as well. We have to have faith that the others will find a solution.”

Dawn had barely broken over the hills when Arezu and Calaba finally did arrive in the village. Hope welled in Adaman’s chest the moment the pair of women entered the house, and only increased further when he observed just how jovial his clanmate appeared to be.

”We found a healer’s log within the Pearl Clan’s records with similar events recorded! And in doing so, have also discovered a solution,” Arezu announced, pulling out a scroll from her satchel and holding it out towards the clan leaders. Knowing Adaman likely wouldn’t want to leave Hikari’s side, Irida took it upon herself to retrieve the document, then unrolled it and began to read its contents aloud.

”Healer’s Log, Day Seven: It has been a week’s time since the child under our care succumbed to the mysterious sleeping illness. Our hunters have reported seeing an unknown creature haunting the woods at night where the child was found, and we have deduced it may be responsible.

Healer’s Log, Day Ten: Another has fallen victim to the sleeping illness; this time an adolescent. The creature previously reported was spotted again just after they were found, and we have thus advised the clan leader to prohibit any from leaving the settlement after nightfall. The victims both look gaunt and appear to suffer in their sleep. None of our remedies have worked thus far.

Healer’s Log, Day Twelve: The clan have dubbed the creature Darkrai. More studies are necessary, but we have theorized that it inflicts the sleeping illness on trespassers within its territory as a form of self-defense. The clan leader has discussed moving the settlement further north.

Healer’s Log, Day Fifteen: Both child and adolescent have recovered on the premise of sheer dumb luck. A multicolored feather fell from the sky during the full moon, and the mother of the child collected it in the hopes of giving it to them when they woke. The moment she brought the feather to the child’s bedside, the sleeping illness was lifted. We placed the feather near the other victim, and the same result occurred. Both have expressed experiencing vivid night terrors during their period of unconsciousness. Recovery observations to follow…”

“You’re saying a Pokémon caused this after all?” Adaman demanded, making no effort to hide his ire at the news. “And the reason she won’t wake… she’s trapped in a never-ending nightmare.”

“It would appear so. But you heard the part about a cure, right? The feather the log mentioned, we just have to find one and Hikari should recover instantaneously!” Arezu exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

”But, where are we going to find the specific feather the notes mentioned?” Irida asked in exasperation. “We don’t even know what kind of Pokémon it came from.”

Calaba cleared her throat from her spot behind the others, grabbing the attention of the two clan leaders. “Honestly, Irida. Has being so wrought with worry scrambled your senses? The feather was said to appear under a full moon. There’s only one creature of flight around these parts tied to that specific detail.”

”Cresselia!” Adaman blurted out, and the elderly woman nodded with a pleased smile.

“Cresselia, of course,” Irida said under her breath with a growing grin of her own. “It’s said to reside in the Moonview Area of the highlands, not far from where Hikari was found. Do you think it purposefully idles there because of this ‘Darkrai’?”

Adaman fixed her with an annoyed look. “Does it matter? We have the information we need to cure Hikari. We must head to the highlands at on-“ but the man wasn’t able to finish his thought, for a whimper from the floor ceased any further remarks. Gasping, Adaman whipped around to discern the commotion, only for his eyes to widen considerably.

Although she remained unconscious, tears were rapidly snaking down Hikari’s cheeks, while sounds that resembled heavy sobs escaped from her throat.

“She’s… crying? But… the rest of her body still isn’t moving at all,” Arezu observed, taking a step closer. Despite the redhead’s commentary, Adaman’s focus remained solely on the fitful blonde.

”Hikari? It’s Adaman,” the man spoke so tenderly, settling a hand on her cheek. “Hey, shh… you’re safe. I’m here.” His thumb gingerly brushed at what tears it could catch as he continued to murmur sweet nothings to her, and after some time, his efforts appeared to have calmed Hikari from her fit.

”Adaman…” Irida breathed in surprise. “I can’t believe that actually worked. I just hope this isn’t an omen of the illness getting worse.” Facing the two wardens in the room with a determined expression, she ordered, “Let’s move out. We shouldn’t delay any further. Adaman,” she then directed to the other clan leader, “I think it’s best if you stay with Hikari in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” he whispered in sincerity, not looking up.

----------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Melli! You’re always griping about having to shoo Cresselia away from Lord Electrode’s arena - you wouldn’t happen to have seen it lately?” Arezu asked when the trio arrived at the domain sitting at the beginning of Mount Coronet’s summit.

”Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Arezu! Why, I’m doing quite well up here in the cold, alone. How kind of you to ask,” the lavender-haired man sneered in reply, donning his signature frown.

Irida rolled her eyes and brushed past Arezu, not about to deal with one of Melli’s infamous tantrums. “Now isn’t the time, Melli,” she snapped. “We need a feather from Cresselia, and quick, or else someone might very well lose their life.”

Melli seemed to contemplate this, bringing a finger to his chin. Narrowing his eyes, he then asked, “Who’s the person?”

”Does it matter? If we don’t hurry we could end up being too late,” Arezu barked. “Just tell us where Cresselia was last and we’ll be out of your hair.”

”It’s that noodle, isn’t it? The one Adaman has been making goo-goo eyes at all the time lately. That’s why you three are here bothering me instead of them,” Melli (correctly) concluded with an accusatory finger. “Well, you can forget my help. I haven’t forgotten the way that girl humiliated milord and I while she was galavanting around the region playing hero.”

”Honestly, Melli! Hikari might die and you’re concerned about your pride? What would Adaman think if he heard you right now?” Arezu demanded, stomping up to the man until she was practically in his face.

”Calm yourself, child,” came Calaba, forgotten in the midst of rising tempers. “Melli has no obligation to assist with this mission if he so chooses.” At the haughty expression and defiant tongue that appeared on said warden’s face, the old woman nonchalantly continued, “Of course, I am certain Adaman will be devastated beyond comprehension and will likely never speak to him again should we lose the Savior of Hisui, but that’s hardly a consequence.”

”Oh, come on! You can’t just play that card on me, it’s so unfair!” Melli whined in defeat, his shoulders sagging. “Ugh, fiiiine. I’ll help you. The stupid rainbow bird was here just this morning. I haven’t had the chance to tidy up the arena yet so you should have no trouble finding whatever it happened to leave behind.”

”Thank you, Melli!” Arezu cheered, her mood doing a complete 180 in an instant. She attempted to reach out and hug the taller man, but he just hissed and pushed her away.

”Almighty Sinnoh willing, Cresselia left behind a feather for us to retrieve,” Irida muttered under her breath, collecting herself as she proceeded into the arena. The vicinity itself wasn’t massive in the slightest, and so when no immediate signs came into view Irida felt her stomach slowly begin to sink.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something iridescent catching the light of the sun overhead. She held her breath as she hurried over to the object, only to let out a cry of relief at what she saw.

A multicolored feather, caught between the twigs of a small brush. Irida reached for it, clutching it to her chest and smiling as wide as her cheeks allowed.

”We have it!” she called to the others, holding it in the air so they could all see for themselves. Arezu, and even Calaba let out whoops of excitement, while Melli was content to simply cross his arms.

”We’re coming, Hikari. Just hang on a little longer!”

-------------------------------------------------------

There had been no further reactions from Hikari since Adaman had calmed her from her fit a couple days prior, and his worries only intensified. The tonic Rei had been preparing to give her some sustenance and sustainability was quickly losing its effect, and the girl’s cheeks were starting to sink the slightest bit.

”Come on, Irida. We’re losing precious time here,” he whispered, gripping Hikari’s hand.

”Commander Kamado is insisting we start making the necessary ceremony arrangements, but I halted such thoughts before they escalated,” Rei said, his eyes furious. “I don’t even care if I lose a rank for speaking out of turn; I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet.”

“They have to be headed back by now if they were successful. It’s only a matter of how quickly they travel. She’s still with us. I refuse to accept otherwise,” Adaman stubbornly replied, a deep furrow appearing in his brow.

It was then that the door to the house slammed open, and in paraded Arezu, Calaba, and Irida, all wearing the brightest grins one could possibly possess. Rei had turned to berate their unnecessary commotion, but his eyes widened when Irida held out their saving grace.

”One feather from Cresselia, ready for curing,” she announced with a wink. Adaman was already rising to his feet at her remark, hurrying over to snatch the feather from her hands.

“Thank Almighty Sinnoh. The lot at the Galaxy Team are already set on digging a plot,” he rasped, then turned towards where Hikari lay once again. Swallowing, he took nervous steps towards the raised platform, before kneeling and placing the feather on Hikari’s chest. It was completely silent as everyone present watched in anticipation, holding their breaths.

Suddenly, a faint glow began to emanate from the multicolored plume, and just as quickly dimmed. That’s when Hikari’s complexion returned to its usual rosy hue, and a faint groan left her lips as she began shifting underneath the blankets.

”Hikari?” Adaman questioned in a near-whisper. The woman’s eyes slowly blinked open, as though clearing her vision from a fog, and she turned her head to stare directly at him.

”Adaman…” she whispered, then attempted a smile as tears welled in her tired eyes. “You’re here. You’re truly here.”

”I am,” he quietly replied with his own relieved smile, settling a shaky hand on her cheek. “Welcome back, Hikari. We missed you dearly.”

For a while it was though they were the only two present within the room, regarding each other in reverence; until Rei awkwardly cleared his throat and came forward.

”It’s good to see you awake and aware, Hikari,” he told the girl, then sat himself at her feet. “You all had us quite worried, y’know?”

”We were fortunate to have Calaba pinpoint us in the direction needed to cure you of your condition,” followed Irida, moving into her friend’s line of sight as well. “Almighty Sinnoh is truly good.”

Hikari looked puzzled at both statements, sending a quick glance to all three individuals hovering over her. “Awake? Condition?” she questioned hoarsely, her lips forming a frown. “Y’mean… I was asleep this entire time? B-but… the things I saw…”

”We’ll explain everything to you once you’ve recovered a bit,” Adaman reassured her. “For now, you should simply focus on gaining your strength back.” Hikari seemed contented to accept that, letting out a deep breath as she nestled back into her pillow.

“Just… promise me, if I fall asleep again, that you’ll be here when I wake,” she murmured worriedly, a hand slinking out from beneath the blankets to cover his own. “Wherever I was, or whatever I was seeing… it was an awful lonely and confusing place.”

“Hikari…” Adaman uttered, then nodded firmly. “Of course. Of course.”

oOo

From where both she and Arezu stood in the middle of the house observing the scene at hand, Calaba made the point to let out a snort of laughter. The redhead reacted by casting a glance her way, quirking a brow.

”Something wrong, Calaba?” she asked, but the old woman just shook her head, though she still wore a mischievous grin.

“Not at all, dear. I’m simply looking forward to attending a wedding of the ages in the near future.”

#Pokemon Legends Arceus #Adaman #Adaman x OC #Original Character #Hikari #a girl out of time #trainersona

8 notes · View notes

fantastic4 · 3 years

Text

the doctor doom comic series has got me feeling an emotion and that is anger

#doctor doom #ff #I. ok first off I haven’t finished it yet but this is making me mad #doom has gone through character development. he’s not as evil as he was before. yet this series has him so unnecessarily evil #like genuinely I see no difference between him and him in books of doom #which. IS HIS ORIGINS.#He has changed SO much over the years and. they’re really gonna sweep everything under the rug huh #infamous iron man huh???#but slott decides to sweep that under a rug. but at least it’s not that bad. doom isn’t evil. he’s just slightly less good.#he’s misguided. he’s being a hero but on his own terms yeah?#I was mad abt that before bc he was also kind of cruel but ok whatever slott retconn #AND NOW WHAT IS THIS? BOOOOO where’s his character development?????????#if this had come out like 10 years ago I’d be like ‘okay. okay. interesting.#bc I know how much doom has grown since then #NO ???????? Y’all are reversing him through time this is personally killing me 😭#I love the comics but man when the characters are done dirty... that’s when I have to look at the mcu and hope they fare better in there #Iris speaks #Iris reads doom

4 notes · View notes

tender-rosiey · 2 years

Text

THEY CATCH YOU WEARING THEIR MERCH ft. haikyuu setters

ᴀ/ɴ: let’s assume everyone pursued a volleyball career and SUCKERS I POSTED WITHOUT WAITING A WHOLE TWO WEEKS; please be proud of me

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔… you were wearing the hoodie that was one of the official pieces of your boyfriend’s merch in the comfort of your own house, normal, right? yes, but he didn’t know and he wouldn’t cause he won’t come back until an hour or so. hence why you continued to watch your favorite show, and oh here comes the delivery guy. you go to open the door only to be met with the sight of the only person you didn’t want to see right now, or at least in the state you’re in. “…” the brown haired male grinned to the point it was almost teasing “love, is that the hoodie from my merch?” you shook your head before closing the door rapidly only for it to be blocked by the cliché move of your boyfriend’s foot between the door. “Y/N COME BACK HERE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! IT’S EVEN A LIMITED EDITION AWWWW!”

𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐎… your boyfriend couldn’t care less about his merch, and it meant absolutely nothing when he saw others wear it. like sure he appreciates the support but the rest is just a big time meh for him. that’s why he thought he wouldn’t melt into a puddle of goo when he saw you wearing a rather silly t-shirt written on it “i love kageyama tobio”. there was sort of a staring contest between the both of you until his nose started bleeding and you started panicking. “OH GOD TOBIO! YOUR NOSE!” you quickly went and got tissues to stop the bleeding; meanwhile, he just kept looking at you before muttering a small yet audible “you look really nice…”

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈… calm and collected, with a smile that could knock all to their knees, was the infamous akaashi keiji. a man that was unsurprisingly and ironically on his knees right at this moment. i mean who could blame him? he just saw the love of his life surrounded by his merch and that one mug that says “you’re doing great.” with a cute chibi version of himself doing a thumbs up with a small smile. “keiji, i can explain—“ “why do you do this to me?” he covers his face before sighing and just continuing to lay on the floor for a good amount of time. you, being the good lover you are, join him on the ground before chuckling. “you’re adorable, keiji.” “please have mercy on my soul, y/n.”

𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒𝐌𝐔… it was no secret that your boyfriend was quite fond of you and of any actions that would hint at the slightest that you love him. and he also had no shame admitting he is whipped for you, except when he is teased about it because as if hell he is going to loose a bet. speaking of bets, there was one going on right now: suna bet that atsumu would loose it if he saw you in his merch and atsumu said he won’t. soon after existing the room, he saw you in a distance in the hoodie he exclusively designed for only 10 fans out of the all of his fanbase. “Y/NNNNNNN! YER WEARING MY MERCH!” he clung onto you like a newborn who just saw its mother. you were about to hug him back then knock some sense into him but then a flash went off. “ATSUMU YOU OWE US 20$ YOU SIMP!” “SHUT YER ‘SAMU!”

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈… you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone until you heard the sound of the door open, causing you to jump off the couch and into the embrace of your boyfriend. he laughed out loud before placing a kiss on your cheek “missed me, lovely?” you nod eagerly before pulling back and him noticing just what you were wearing for slippers. he looks back up with a small smirk “subtle, huh.” you shrug your shoulders before waddling into the kitchen and him screaming out while laughing “YOU GOT THE KNOCK OFF YOU DUMMY! I HAVE THE ORIGINAL FOR YOU ANYWAY!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15 @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato@thekaylahub

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

589 notes · View notes

wandaromanova · 2 years

Text

Comfort Zone

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: like… two swear words

A/N: hello! wow, it’s been a minute since i’ve posted, huh? truthfully, i started this fic weeks ago and added in a request i received at that time. i’m really rusty, so sorry if this fic isn’t up to par, but it’s great to be back. happy reading <3

anon requested: For the fluff requests. How about Nat x reader where r didn't get a jacket when they went outside and now they're cold and try to hide it but nat can see it so she gives r her jacket and says something things like "See I was right. It's cold you should've brought a jacket or a scarf or anything" while putting her jacket on r <333

Summary: Natasha had never strayed away from her comfort zone, that was, until she met Y/N L/N.

Word Count: 2.6K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Dating a former spy and current Avenger definitely had its perks, the biggest one being how attentive and caring your girlfriend tended to be. For the past two years, you’ve been in a serious relationship with the infamous Natasha Romanoff.

You were an intern at Stark Industries, working alongside Tony Stark himself in his lavish lab. You assisted the billionaire with various projects, the most notable task being the numerous upgrades to the Iron Man suit.

You were a bit of a genius yourself, having graduated from MIT just like Tony had.

Considering the fact that his lab happened to be located in the basement of the Avengers Tower, you got to see earth’s mightiest heroes on a daily basis. You had grown close to the team. You got especially close to the redheaded Russian.

It seemed as though every time you were in the lab, Natasha would pay a visit. At the time, you assumed she was there to converse with Tony, or perhaps she really had an interest in the technological processes it took to amp up the Iron Man suit. But you were very naive, to say the least.

To be fair, Natasha was very good at faking interest. The way she spoke with such grace, following along with your explanations and asking insightful questions, it was a really applaudable act she put on. So, after months of working in the tower, you were shocked when the redhead asked you out on a date.

You had gone through every conversation and interaction you had with Natasha, trying to pinpoint any instance where she had signaled or hinter to her attraction toward you, but you came up blank. Of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised; being discrete was part of her profession after all.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You’ll never forget the way your cheeks flushed red as Natasha smirked at you, finding delight and humor in your flustered state. However, despite the humiliation, you wouldn’t change a single detail about your relationship with the spy.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Natasha, despite what she may think, was an amazing partner. She never failed to remember things about you, that oftentimes, you don’t even remember telling her yourself.

Comment on something cute that caught your eye at the mall? You’d come home from work the very next day, to your girlfriend with the aforementioned item in hand. She’d hold it out to you with a small, shy smile on her face.

“You said you liked it when we were out shopping yesterday, so I got it for you.”

You smile widely, a small chuckle falling past your lips as you approach her, taking the item out of her hand, and placing it down. Natasha let out a small gasp as you pulled her body flush against your own, arms wrapped securely around her waist.

“You didn’t have to do that for me, baby. But thank you.” You press your lips against hers, and Natasha doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the action. Her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, nails gently caressing your skin.

“Yeah, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I literally had to fight a snobby teenager to get it since it was the last one.” Natasha spoke, her words muffled as her lips ghosted over your own.

However, you immediately pull back with wide eyes.

“You fought a teenager?” You tried and failed to hide the humor behind your voice.

“Well, I mean I didn’t actually fight her, but I was pretty damn close. Even after I told her I was an Avenger, she still didn’t back down.” Natasha groaned out and you couldn’t contain yourself. You burst out in laughter at her words, emerald eyes glaring at you.

“You seriously pulled the ‘I’m an Avenger’ card? Oh my god, that is too good.” You laughed even harder when your girlfriend slightly shoved you away from her, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Shut up! I wanted to get it for you and I did what I had to do.” A pout made its way to the redhead’s lips and your laughter slowly died down. You pulled her back into you, smiling when she didn’t try to move away, but instead, shoved her face into the crook of your neck.

“Well, now I appreciate the gift even more.”

“You better… I looked like such an asshole.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

One time, you had asked Natasha to stop by the store after work to pick up some shampoo.

Normally, you went out and did the shopping for household necessities, but you had been busier than usual that week. It was a fairly simple request; just grab some shampoo.

But in all the years you’ve known the assassin, you learned that simplicity wasn’t her forte.

You were in the kitchen, quietly humming to yourself as relaxing music played in the background. You absolutely loved to cook, even more so when it was for your girlfriend.

However, your private moment was interrupted by your ringtone echoing throughout the space.

You lowered the heat on the stove, snatching your phone from the counter beside you, and smiled when Natasha’s name flashed across the screen. As soon as you answered, the sounds of shuffling and a small sigh met your ear.

‘Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” You asked casually, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, deciding to continue cooking.

“Hi, I’m at the store right now and I need your help,” Natasha spoke with slight concern, and your eyebrows furrowed with worry. “What did you need help with? Is everything alright?” You stirred the steaming pot of food in front of you, when Natasha let out a hum.

“Did you want coconut or cherry blossom shampoo?”

The seriousness in Natasha’s voice nearly made you laugh, but you held back your laughter and responded.

“That’s what you need help with? You made it sound like someone was dying.” You shook your head in amusement, even if the redhead couldn’t see it.

“That didn’t answer my question, babe. Coconut or cherry blossom?” You let out a small giggle, unable to hold it back any longer when your girlfriend was being unintentionally funny.

“It really doesn’t matter, Nat. Just get whatever.” You answered her question, but Natasha wasn’t finished.

“What brand did you want?” Natasha’s confusion was evident in her tone of voice. You let out a small, amused sigh as you poured some paprika into the pot.

“The one we always get is fine, Natty.” There was a small pause and you assumed the redhead had asked everything she needed to, however, she spoke again before you had the chance to say anything.

“What kind did you want? They all say different things…” Natasha trailed off and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

You always loved her voice. There was something so comforting about her sultry tone that made you feel at home, especially when she’d hum random songs around the house.

Your thoughts were cut off when Nat’s voice rang through the speaker.

“There’s scalp care, keratin smooth, detox and nour- god! Who knew there were so many types of shampoo? It’s just shampoo, for fuck’s sake!”

Nat let out an exasperated groan and you wholeheartedly laughed this time around.

“Honey, you can pick anything! As long as it does the job, it’s alright.” Silence filled the call once more before Natasha responded. “Uh, okay I’ll just get scalp care because I know how sensitive your skin can be.”

You smiled widely when she said that. The way she paid such attention to the smallest details about you and kept them in mind despite the situation was heartwarming. She always had your best interest at heart, even while completing the simplest of tasks.

“Okay, thank you baby, but remind me never to send you out shopping again.” You chuckled, turning the stove off, feeling satisfied with what you had made. Natasha let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Yeah, please don’t make me do this again. It’s awful.” Movement could be heard on the other side of the phone, a muffled ‘excuse me’ followed shortly after.

“Okay, I secured the bubbles. Did you need anything else?” Natasha jokingly put on her ‘mission’ voice that you always made fun of her for.

“Nope. Now, hurry home, loser. Dinner’s ready.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

As someone who has seen all kinds of action throughout her life, Natasha was no stranger to anything when it came to her work life.

Even as an Avenger, each mission seemed to be the exact same, with small differentiations. She always knew what to expect. Each objective was the same; take down the enemies and avoid civilian casualties.

There was never an instance where she had been fearful or nervous… until she met you. Natasha would step out of her comfort zone for you, something she never had to do before. This fact became evident to you the hour before Natasha met your parents.

“What should I wear? I have the black dress I wore on our first date, that should be good right?” Natasha panicked, frantically pushing around the clothes hanging in her closet.

“No, it’s too revealing. I can’t wear that, shit.” The redhead cursed to herself under her breath. You laughed, the bed creaking beneath you as you stood up.

“Baby, it just has a lower neckline. It’s perfectly fine.” You spoke softly, walking toward your girlfriend and wrapping your arms around her from behind.

“Yeah but it shows skin, Y/N/N. What if your parents think it isn’t appropriate. What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

Natasha’s insecurity showed and it made your heart ache. You were the first serious relationship Natasha has ever had.

Her previous lovers failed to understand her, resulting in premature breakups. However, you knew the Russian better than she knew herself at times, and that made this occasion even more important.

You spun the redhead around to face you, her front pushed up against yours, as green eyes bored into yours.

“Natty, the only person who can determine whether or not you’re good for me… is me.” You met Natasha’s unwavering gaze that held uncertainty and fear behind them.

“And I happen to know for a fact that you’re perfect for me. No one is better for me than you.”

At your words of reassurance, Nat’s eye softened as she let out a small, shaky breath. She tilted her head slightly forward and connected your foreheads, kissing the tip of your nose gently before nudging it with her own.

“But… for the record, I definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing that dress. It’ll give me something to look at over lunch.”

Natasha slapped your face gently as she snorted, shaking her head at you with a loving smile spreading across her face that only you had the privilege to witness.

“Not a chance.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Spontaneity was one concept that Natasha never participated in. Her whole life had revolved around thought-out words and calculated moves. Her ability to assess situations was unparalleled. She mastered the art of anticipation, being able to see things coming from a mile away.

You, however, were the exact opposite. Despite being in a career field that required lots of methodical and analytical tasks, you were a very laid-back person. Your carefree nature was one of the many reasons why Nat fell in love with you.

And, knowing how much you love unpremeditated moments, she’d take you out on random dates, one in particular that you, nor her, would ever forget.

There was a common misconception about New York, it was the city that people with big dreams and ideas commuted to.

The media would talk about the beauty of the city lights and the bustling liveliness that never faltered. And although those things were true, living there was a completely different story. It was almost always raining, the temperature always cold.

When Natasha proposed to go out for dinner, she told you to bring your jacket, but you insisted that you’d be fine, which you definitely were not.

The meal itself had gone smoothly, conversing with the redhead over a glass of wine, leaning over the table as she held out a spoonful of her food to try.

At one point in the night, you both burst out in laughter when a waitress accidentally tripped over the leg of a chair, spilling water all over the ground. Of course, you had asked if he was alright when your giggling subsided.

When the night was over, the two of you walked home, to ‘take the scenic route,’ as your girlfriend had suggested. It would have been an idyllic experience if you weren’t absolutely freezing.

You unlaced your hand from Natasha’s, quickly shoving both of your hands into your jeans pockets. You tried to fight back the shivers that threatened to flow across your body. You tried to hide how cold you were, but of course, Nat saw right through it.

Natasha suddenly stopped in her tracks, confusion was written across your face as you stopped too and looked at her. “You’re cold.” Nat stated matter of factly and you immediately shook your head.

“Am not.”

“You’re shivering.”

“No. I'm just… shaking with excitement because the food was amazing.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics. “I told you to bring your jacket or at least a scarf. You’re so damn stubborn.” She spoke with a faux annoyed expression, swiftly taking off her jacket and draping the material over your shoulders.

“Well… the jacket and scarf would have thrown off my aesthetic.” Natasha laughed at your words, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly, glad to evoke the sound from her.

She looked incredible as always, eyes shining as the glow of the streetlight above the two of you cascaded onto her smooth skin.

“Your aesthetic? What exactly were you going for, huh? The Ice Age?”

Nat laughed uncontrollably at her own joke as she put her arm around your shoulders. You let out a small huff, a pout making its way to your lips as you discreetly pushed your side further into her own, seeking out her warmth as you continued walking together.

“I hate you so much.” You grumbled out. “No, you don’t.” Natasha spoke confidently. You hummed as if you were thinking about what she said, before responding. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess.”

“When am I not?” Nat asked sassily and you rolled your eyes at her. “I think you’re hanging around Tony too much, his ego is rubbing off on you.” You commented and Nat snorted at your words.

A beat of silence passed, the only sound that could be heard were your footsteps against the pavement and the rustling of the wind. “What would I do without you?” You asked softly, a feeling of sentiment washing over you like a tidal wave.

“Freeze to death, apparently.” Natasha replied nonchalantly. And just like that, the cute moment you were trying to start was ruined, not that you were complaining though.

You playfully hit Nat on the shoulder as your combined laughter filled the night air, unable to contain yourselves. The assassin placed a soft kiss on your temple, the warmth of her jacket and body against yours pulling you into a serene state.

The remainder of the journey was quiet, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the moment and all the others you shared with your girlfriend. You knew that you could overcome any obstacle life threw at you, as long as she was right by your side.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤNatasha stepped out of her comfort zone for you; ㅤㅤ while you found yours in the form of her.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

taglist: @perfectromanoff @aliancvnas @marvelwomenslut @chaekhan @rvselie @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @natashaswifey @prentisshoe @mcubreakdown101 @yeetus-thyself @multiyfandomgirl40 @007giu @weelight @scotts-orange-slices @puppy-danvers2016 @acertainredhead @jdougl-love @lynxwhispurrs @mindofwesley @lostandsearching @tquick99 @rachel14617 @illloveyou @thewidowsghost @uraveragelonelygay @wandasgirlfriend @sapphic-stress @suki-is-a-queen @xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @hagridsmomma @blurryylines @yeeterthekeeper @maximoff-jp @midnight-lestrange @tomatonugget @mrs-avenger3000 @wandadarlingg @wandanatblogs @nooshe @simpfornatasharomanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @grxvitye @thelastavenger-3000 @hunka-hulka-burnin-fudge @lightsaberfights @catasha @maxioofs

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #black widow x reader #request

1K notes · View notes

babyboibucky · 3 years

Text

Take What You Need

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You let Frank use you to his advantage.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Unprotected rough sex, oral (m and f receiving), anal play, fingering, slight degradation, creampie

A/N: Okay so I changed the character from Brock Rumlow to Frank Castle as y’all suggested. I haven’t seen a single episode of The Punisher and merely relied on research and fanvids lmao please be kind asjnckjacnakj

MAIN MASTERLIST

As soon as you opened the door, you instantly knew what Frank wanted. The darkness in his eyes, the rapid movement of his chest as he breathed and the way his jaw ticked when he saw you— you knew what those meant.

He needed to take whatever he could, needed to bury himself in you until he could finally feel something else other than grief, anger and vengeance.

Without saying a word, you stepped aside to let him in before quickly scanning the area outside of your suburban house. A routine you always did whenever Frank came; you didn’t want any of your neighbors to see what kind of a man you were involved with.

“No one saw me, you know how careful I am.” Frank reassured, his voice rough and strained from exhaustion.

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it and watched Frank walk around your dainty living room to fetch himself a glass of scotch. The view was absolutely ironic, a rugged and sinful man standing amidst your clean and simple home.

You, yourself, was a stark contrast to Frank, wearing nothing but a pristine white night gown that reached your knees as opposed to his all black ensemble. His jacket was zipped up halfway, his skull-printed tactical vest just peeking enough to taunt you of what you had become ever since you met him.

The Punisher’s little plaything.

Everybody thought you were innocent, a plain Jane who could do no wrong. But behind closed doors, you were far from pure.

People feared him for the reputation he made for himself, but you don’t. If any, you trusted him with your life. No doubts, no safewords, no nothing.

“What do you need?” You asked breathlessly.

Frank turned to look at you, licking his lips as he brought the glass of scotch to his mouth. Beneath the lust clouding his eyes was the pain that had been consuming him. Something that only you could take away temporarily every single time you let him use your body.

“All of you.”

There was something degrading about being the only one stripped bare and yet it only made you want to beg. For what? Everything.

Whatever Frank would give to you, you were always so happy to take and accept. You had surrendered yourself to him, gave him the right to decide for you, to wreck you in ways you couldn’t imagine.

You were kneeling on your bed, your hands on your lap as you gazed at Frank as he stood at the foot of the bed. He smirked seeing you begin to drool because of the leather open-mouth gag wrapped around your face. Spit dribbled from your chin down to your sheets, marking the cloth with a wet patch that grew bigger with every drop.

“Looking so fuckin’ pretty for me.” Frank rasped out as he took off his jacket before removing his infamous tactical vest.

He was quick to shrug it off from his broad shoulders, letting it fall down to the ground with a loud thud. Frank reached behind him to grab at his shirt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side before placing a knee on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and gripped your jaw hard, tilting your head up to look at him.

Wetness pooled in between your legs when Frank gently tapped your cheek, “You just love it when I come here to take what I need, huh?” He asked.

You nodded enthusiastically, whimpering from your desperation to just receive whatever it was that Frank had planned for you tonight. He chuckled darkly, caressing your hair before grabbing a fistful of it, yanking at it hard.

“What a fucking beauty, and it’s all mine to ruin.” He said before spitting into your mouth.

Frank was quick to let your hair go, only for him to unzip his pants. He took out his already hard cock and wasted no time to slide it into your mouth with no warning. You gagged on it immediately, unable to swallow the saliva that has been pooling in your mouth due to the open-mouth gag you were wearing.

“Fuuuuck…” Frank growled as he fucked your mouth with long-drawn out strokes.

His cock was easily lubricated with your drool, forming a thin line of your spit when he pulled out just enough to make you take a single breath in.

And then he fucked your face hard and fast. It was painful and it made your eyes water from how the tip of his cock kept on hitting the back of your throat, making you choke on it each time. His loud grunts reverberated from his sweaty chest and the sounds of his pleasure did nothing to alleviate the desperate throbbing in your cunt.

Your hands on your lap were itching to touch him, to mark his skin with your nails but you knew better than that. Frank never allowed you to touch him without his permission; you were his but he wasn’t yours.

Frank pulled out and watched the mess he made of your face— eyes bloodshot from tears, mouth stretched open with a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum smeared all over your chin and neck. You panted as you blinked up at him, begging him to give you more with just your expressive eyes.

“You’re such a slut.” He chuckled as he finally removed his pants.

“Turn around, stay on your knees.” He commanded and you instantly obeyed.

You felt the mattress dip behind you, followed by Frank’s hands unclasping the mouth gag. You haven’t even composed yourself yet when you were quickly manhandled to get you flat on your stomach with your ass up in the air.

“Look at your cunt, it’s fucking dripping.” Frank groaned, spitting on your folds before rubbing it with his fingers.

Your toes curled and your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, moaning out loud so desperately.

A whore for Frank, that was what you really are.

Your moans continued to fly out of your mouth when Frank pressed his face into your pussy, his large hands spreading your ass cheeks wide open as he fucked you with his tongue. He was relentless, licking and nipping and slurping while landing harsh spanks on your ass.

“Frank, fuck—“ You whined when you felt his finger circle your puckered hole.

He pulled back to further spread your wetness around, smearing all over the back of your thighs all the way to your other hole. Your body went rigid when you felt him prod it with his finger, laughing breathlessly at how you went completely still at the foreign intrusion.

“What, you wanna back out now? Thought you said you’d take everything I’d give you?” He taunted, continuing to push his index finger inside.

You shook your head, not wanting to disappoint Frank. “I want it.” You murmured.

Frank hummed, “That’s my good little slut.” He praised and finally slid his entire finger into your ass until he was knuckle deep into you.

A high-pitched moan slipped past your lips when Frank started to thrust his finger in and out of your asshole, while his other hand thumbed at your pussy. The combination of the different kinds of sensations was making your body buzz with immense pleasure until it snapped and you unabashedly came with no prior warning.

“Oh fuck, look at you trembling. God, fuck. You’re so fucking needy.” Frank growled and straightened up, sliding his cock into your pulsating cunt to prolong your orgasm.

You almost shrieked at the pleasure of your climax mixing with the way Frank’s cock was dragging along your still sensitive walls. Your first orgasm hasn’t even died down and yet you were quickly feeling the build-up of another.

Frank gripped the back of your head, turning your face to the mattress and pressing you down on it hard. The sudden lack of oxygen heightened your senses, until all you could focus on was how Frank was slapping your ass while pounding into you roughly.

Your ears began to ring when you struggled to breathe, your legs quaking and your arms flailing around in an attempt to lift your head up from the bed.

“Oh, baby. You’ll take what I fucking give you.” Frank said, hissing when he felt his balls tighten from his impending orgasm.

Muffled moans and the squelching sounds of your wet pussy was all that you could hear. Your lungs were burning and you could feel yourself slowly slip into unconsciousness. For a moment, you thought that Frank might have forgotten about you amidst his own pleasure.

Just as when you were about to pass out, he yanked your hair up until you were kneeling upright. Gasping for air, you reached behind you to grip at Frank’s thighs for support but he was quick to hold you by the arms instead as he continued to fuck you in that position.

“I’m going to cum, fuck! I’m cumming!” You chanted over and over again as you teared up, the pleasure becoming too much to bear.

“Cum with me, baby. Come on, give it to me. Need it, need to feel something...need to feel you.” Frank groaned into your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your back flush to his chest as he continued to rut his hips against yours.

A hand gripped at your throat, but not too tight, just enough to keep your face close to his as he cursed and praised you for being his whore.

“Fucking hell, cum. Cum now!” Frank growled and rubbed your clit quickly.

A silent scream was ripped out of your throat when you came, only moaning audibly when Frank thrusted into you at the same time ropes of his cum painted your walls. He panted heavily and kept you close to him, hugging you tightly as your aftershocks made your entire body jolt every now and then.

Frank slowly pulled out of you and gently let you fall onto the bed, rubbing his hand on your back before squeezing your ass. He watched his cum ooze out of your cunt, loving the way it dripped down to the sheets.

“That was amazing.” He said breathlessly.

Unable to move your body, you simply stayed on the bed and listened to the rustling of clothes, followed by his heavy footsteps walking away from you.

The bedroom door creaked.

“‘Til next time, whore.”

Just like that, Frank left you used and abused but completely sated.

What he gave, you had taken.

Tagging a few who might be interested in this!!!

@borikenlove @buckycuddlebuddy @certainaesthetic @buckyssimp @bonkywobble @bonkywobble

#bbb writes #oneshots: frank castle #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #the punisher #jon bernthal

965 notes · View notes